Vula's Oddysee
by Slig
Summary: The Mudokon queen is finally dying. Vula, a slave worker, is discovered to be female. But when she turns up infertile, it is up to Vula and her friends to find the real heir and bring her to the Monsaic Lines before Rupture Farms gets their hands on her.
1. Chapter 1

Rupture Farms 1029 was on full alert. Thick, black smoke billowed like giant serpents towards the gray-green sky, pulsating from massive smokestacks. The largest plant on Oddworld was a complex network of steel pathways and dropoffs that would kill anyone that happened to fall off the edge. Strange machines patrolled the skies. The largest structure - at least what could be seen from above - was at the center of the plant. The cylindrical building was stamped with a fading gargantuan face of a glukkon and within it, held one of the most powerful glukkons on Oddworld.

Although it could not be seen through the pollution, it was nearing sunset. It was always insisted that Oddworld's sunsets were beautiful - if only you took the time to move far, far away from the industrial areas and see it. But that was not to be. What self-respecting Mudokon, Glukkon, or Slig would venture out into the forbidding wilds to view it? And with industrialism expanding, it wouldn't be long before any hopes of nature thriving would be destroyed. Even many of the slaves found some grudging contentment in their lives. This was all they had known, all they had. Why should they want anything else?

RuptureFarms never slept. Its inhabitants did, in shifts. The cafeteria was always open, and during the evenings it was Unit #47 - the night shift, that occupied it before they went to work. The area functioned like any other - there was a line of sligs waiting for lunch, served by Mudokons of course; rows of tables where sligs would sit and eat; vending machines full of cigarettes and coffee - provided one had the moolah to pay for it. While the area was large enough to accomodate several hundred people at once, the only Mudokons one would find were behind the counters serving food to hungry, boasting sligs.

"Maaan!" A slig at the front of the line inhaled deeply. "Someone gotten 'is place clean yet? Smells like a sewer pipe in 'ere!" His sneering remark was aimed at the serving Mudokons, who ignored him. The sligs in front of and behind him cackled.

While the life of a slig was generally considered terrible work, each of them dealt with it in his own way. The newest sligs imitated the more experienced ones. The most powerful sligs set the example, generally barking orders to the fresher sligs and bribing them for favors. The sligs in the middle were neither powerful nor new, consisting mostly of sligs that had either just found their place in slig "society" or those that were much more seasoned. Sligs lived mostly simple lives, going where they were assigned, gambling, snoozing when they could, and whipping Mudokons into shape. Like the Mudokons, they knew nothing else, so they took whatever they could out of life and enjoyed some sense of control out of it. And sligs love control.

A slig that had just gotten through the line made his way back to the slig that had spoken, "Yeah, nice one, Lurdo!"

The slig called Lurdo grinned behind his mask and left the line. The other slig joined him.

"Where on earth ya been the last few days? Ye look...a little bigger'n the last time I saw ya."

"Eh, here, there," Lurdo grunted. "'Ey, Grob, Guess what?"

"What?" Grob asked as they made their way to a table.

Lurdo placed his tray down and pointed to himself dramatically. "They're promotin' me tonight. No more shitty slog food!" He snarled at the mess of food on his tray and dug into it messily.

"Man, Lurdo. How'd you get so lucky?"

Lurdo wiped off his tentacles. "'Cuz. Unlike all you lazy slobs I actually love this job here!"

"You just like hitting the slaves," came the snide remark of a slig across from him.

In a single moment, Lurdo's attitude twisted into something else as he launched himself over the table, powerful arm finding the snide slig's throat in a second. The slig's yelp twisted into a choking cough as he struggled to get away, but Lurdo's grip was iron.

"Don't ever tell me what I like and don't like, worm!" Lurdo growled. The other slig whimpered what could've been translated as an agreement. Lurdo released him, a flick of his arm sending the slig sprawling into the opposite table with a crash.

Grob's eyes went wide. "L-Lurdo... what was that?"

"Got a problem?" Lurdo snapped. "Want a piece of this?"

"N-no!" Grob held up his hands innocently. "I'm just wondering what got into ya. You used to be a real fun guy."

Lurdo growled again. "Sayin' I'm not funny anymore, Grob?"

"Ah… Just forget it. I dunno what I'm sayin'." Grob got to his feet and tossed the tray he had into the trash. "I gotta get back to my shift early before the bell sounds. I hate runnin' in these pants."

On his way back to his post, Grob shook his head. Lurdo had always been one of the "nicer" sligs. There was no slig that didn't enjoy the occasional slave assault, although it wasn't as common as one thought. In fact, a chunk of it was gossip and anti-Industrial rumors. But to turn your back on your own was astounding to him. He knew there was bullying and teasing but rarely did sligs attack one another outright. It took too much energy. If there was a reason, sure, but... Lurdo had always been relatively civil no matter the attitude of the other slig. Hell, he rarely even picked on the slaves. Usually, he was napping or full of threats. The Mudokons, he knew, probably hoped to have him as the overseeing slig. And in a span of a few days his pal had gone from nice guy to something potentially dangerous.

Grob returned to his room to check his next assignment. As he read it, he grimaced. "Paired with a couple'a freshies," he snarled, and headed to the slog kennels to grab a partner before he headed out. As he headed out there, he heard an alarm go off. It was too far away for him to get to. In fact, it was down several floors. He wondered if they'd show up at his post with the freshies.

The air was heavy with apprehension. Sligs were on full alert. Slogs were snapping at everything that moved. It was officially dark - the sky was black anyway, but in places where the smoke faded the sky was a clear, dark blue, the only celestial bodies were the moons overhead. In spite of that, it was near pitch-black outside and, unless you were lucky enough to be posted near one of the lights, you were patrolling in the dark. There was very little grass near the main building of Rupture Farms. When you were lucky enough to be on something that wasn't steel or concrete, it didn't feel like anything natural.

To the slogs, the earth felt dirty somehow. While dirt is indeed "dirty", the earth here had a sticky, dead feel to it, like the life had long since been sucked from it. The slogs did not like it, but they were trained to ignore it. Either way, natural earth was much better than walking on grimy, stained and smelly steel or concrete. It could be said that they might've envied their sligs, who lived with metallic pants, could not feel the ground beneath them.

Grob was so very irritated. The two sligs patrolling with him were very new. It was always the new ones he was stuck with. He was in his prime - it was expected of him to whip the newer sligs into shape whenever he was partnered with them. Freshies were too slow and stupid, but he'd get over it if it meant he got paid.

"Hey, Grob!" one of the sligs hissed, weapon pressed carefully against his body. He seemed smaller than the others. "How long are these shifts?"

Grob huffed, finger reaching up to unconsciously rub the scar along the side of his head. It sank deep into his mask. He'd gotten it in a friendly brawl with another slig.

"Bleh." He seemed about to continue, as he hadn't stopped marching and was prepared to show that he could insult and patrol at the same time, but he realized something. He fell silent for a moment, tiny fingers stroking his rifle. "Who the hell are ya?"

"I don't have no name yet," the slig whispered.

Grob chuckled to himself, which morphed into a sadistic snicker.

"It goes like this." The slig slung his body around and turned to face the significantly smaller slig. "You obey the boss. If you see any slaves makin' a run for it, shoot 'em on sight." He turned and continued his patrol. The slog next to the nameless slig growled again. "The shift ends whenever the others relieve us."

Must've been his first time out anywhere at all. His training didn't even show through in his demeanor, which disappointed him. While Grob himself wasn't really the hardest working slig in the bunch, he certainly knew what to do when the boss was around. He didn't feel like saying anything. The third slig was even larger than himself, but seemed to know what he was doing and so Grob didn't bother him.

--

Around the corner, in the shadows, four creatures pressed themselves against the wall. Their leader was out in front, peering very carefully around to eye the chatting sligs. Yellow eyes slid back to the others behind them.

"Duck down, and follow me." The voice did not seem to have a particular gender assigned to it. The leader pressed its body against the ground, carefully creeping along in the shadows, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm its racing heart. It glanced behind them to see the other three figures and pressed on.

A single bark sounded and the creatures froze, trembling. The barks increased, mixed with growling and soon all the slogs were barking, creating a racket and the sligs were scrambling to keep them in check. One of the slogs caught a scent and everyone knew it. The snarl it emitted was unearthly as it made a beeline for the crouching slaves.

"Stay down! They can't see in the dark!" the leader hissed, but the others scrambled to their feet and sprinted in all directions. One by one they were shot down by the three sligs.

The leader barked an order, but it went unheard and it prepared to sprint away to save itself.

But there was no time. By the time it'd gotten up, lights were blaring in their faces, alarms going off, and the butt of a rifle slammed against the leader's head.

--

"And I thought you had a sense of self-preservation, slave!" barked a gruff, masculine voice.

"Ugh.." the Mudokon tried to her head, grimacing at the caked blood along the side of her face. But she was suspended by her wrists from cuffs hanging from the ceiling. There were no windows. It was perfectly cylindrical, with an indentation in the floor and a faint roaring beneath. Something dangerous was under there.

"And yet, here you are again." The slig before her paced back and forth. There was a small one next to him. "And I think ya need to see what it's like on the bottom of the food chain... " His powerful arm lashed out with the baton and struck the Mudokon across her body, causing her to yelp. "Just wait till I report you to the boss!"

The smaller slig observed silently.

The large one cackled. "Go for it!" He handed the small one the baton.

"Wha?" Gingerly, the little slig approached her, and slung it, halfheartedly, at her leg. It hurt, but not nearly as much as before, and she hissed through clenched teeth as her thigh bruised considerably.

"No no no, do it like this!" The larger slig growled, and seemed to want to snatch away the baton, but he hesitated. "You know what.. I think I'll leave you two alone. When it's an inch away from death, go get someone to cut it down." The slig passed through the open doorway and hesitated. "Oh yeah. This'll be yer last strike. We don't need no terrorists runnin' round 'ese parts."

The slig glanced at the baton in his hands, then up at the slave, sizing her up.

The Mudokon trembled against the cold and growled raggedly at the slig. "If yer gonna do it, do it." she hissed blandly in her strange, almost genderless voice that sounded like every other Mudokon in the plant. She was used to being hit - this was her second escape attempt. Inspired by the rumors of a terrorist floating around, she was eager to follow in his footsteps. Her friends - at least the ones that had had the courage to follow her in an attempted escape, were either going to be punshed or killed, and it was all her fault. She'd take every blow with a snarl and suffer the punishment she deserved for her failure.

The slig would've rolled his eyes, if he could. Instead, it growled and ignored her. "And what if I don't wanna?"

The Mudokon raised an eyebrow ridge. "Well, generally.. you sligs beat us slaves. Unless you don't wanna, you could cut me down." She attempted to grin, but her lips were stitched, preventing any large movement of her mouth

Provoked enough, the slig swung the baton at her ankles. The resounding cracks echoed throughout the room and the Mudokon gasped. The pain overtook any sound she had attempted to make. When she finally was able to make a noise, it was only a shaky grunt of pain. Mudokons have hollow bones, and while they were surprisingly durable, a hard enough hit could snap them like twigs - and both of her ankles had been broken.

Finally, the slig seemed to calm down a little. There was something odd about the slave. First, he wore a loin cloth like any other slave, but there was another strip of material covering her chest, like she had something to hide. The slig moved in closer to examine this - so close that his tentacles nearly brushed up against the material. The slave wriggled in spite of herself.

"What... are you doing?" she tried to snap.

"What in hell are you wearin' 'at for?" he asked. "Tryin' t' 'ide some'in?"

The Mudokon whispered, "I jus' like wearin' it."

"Whatever," he replied. "I think this'll be good enough. Walkin's gonna be hard for ye now." He reached over and pushed the button that would release her.

The cuffs suddenly opened and the Mudokon dropped to the floor in a heap, groaning in agony as her broken ankles landed underneath her. She attempted to pull herself to her feet, and might have made it had not the slig clocked her over the head with the butt of his rifle, sending her into unconsciousness.

The slig reached up and grabbed her by the shared ponytail on her head, as he had been taught, and dragged her out of the room.

"Now where do I.." he muttered. Nearby, a patrolling slig caught his attention. "Aha! 'Ey you," he grunted. "Where do I take 'is 'ere ah... pris'ner?"

The slig waited a moment before acknowledging the newer, younger slig, but turned to him.

"You're holding it wrong. Hold it by the wrists. They're strong but they're clumsy, eheheh. Take it to the shelters. They're out there near the stockyard. Ye should see a sign. Ye can read can't ye?"

The slig nodded, and readjusted his grip on her before trudging out.

"Oh and don't try anything funny, freshie." The larger slig hissed.

--

The nameless little slig hefted the Mudokon down the narrow hallways, head cast somewhat downward as he tried to avoid the stares of his co-workers. One of them piped, "Prison duty?" and laughed.

He did not like the Mudokon - she was the first one to have given him any trouble since he had arrived here. There was still a world of first-times in this place for him, and he was hoping he would be more seasoned before he had to go and beat slaves up.

He brought her out into the darkness, shivering at the screech of the scrabs as they echoed in the pits further out. It was never good to admit to anyone what you were afraid of, but all the sligs were terrified of the scrabs if they didn't have weapons. Even the standard-issue Blunderbuss was powerful, but probably would not stop a charging scrab. He had heard stories of other sligs going out towards the ancient temple ruins - and most of them rarely came back. He clutched his rifle with his only free hand and hoped he wouldn't have to use it. At least not until he put the slave in its quarters.

The sky was growing gray and soon the sun would rise. There was a chill in the air and he could feel it and hated it. Dew was collecting on the ground and the metallic walkways. His metallic pants, normally somewhat warm, were already beginning to drop in temperature and he could feel it inside them.

She was lightweight, but her apparent unconscious state made her dead weight and he was thankful when he could put her down inside the slave hold. To his surprise it was nearly empty, the few remaining occupants were in a dead sleep. Twenty hour-shifts meant those three hours (and one hour total to eat) meant Mudokons did not dream. They blacked out, bodies forced into recovering in half the amounf of time necessary. It rarely worked, but it weeded out the weaklings.

He tossed her on the steel platform that functioned as her bed and turned away.

"Mmmf..thanks," came a surprising reply. The slig whipped his head around, tentacles slapping the doorframe, to stare at her, wide-eyed.

Maybe she was delirious? Yeah, that had to be it. The slig bolted out of the prisoners quarters and slid the barred door shut.

--

Her dull, yellow eyes were half-closed as she stared listlessly at the ground. The Mudokon Queen, once proud and free, was reduced to nothing more than a breeding female for someone else's profit. She hardly noticed her own children anymore, had little feeling from her thorax down, and only half-listened to the program on the Shrink's screen.

The Interns that, under normal conditions, handled the hundreds of eggs she laid each day, were without anything to do. They stared stupidly at one another, mostly hanging about the Queen's rear, waiting for an egg. They were unused to waiting so long, and the Shrinks were beginning to irritate them. Some of them were bobbing their heads to some kind of music in their headphones.

After several moments of suspended silence, the Queen thrashed, screaming, shouting deranged insults at the Shrinks and surrounding Interns, who backed away frantically. Her flailing arms were weak, and eventually stopped moving again as she calmed, and downed a vial of liquid before inhaling deeply and growling to herself.

One of the Interns timidly approached her, intending to inquire about the eggs, when the Mudokon's arms gave out and she collaped in a heap in the hay. The entire room began to panic, scrambling to lift her back up. In any other situation, it would've been humorous to see wrinkly, drooping creatures straining themselves in speedos.

One of them hurried towards a computer desk and started pressing a series of buttons, whimpering to himself.

A Vykker flickered to life on the large screen.

"Philip, here. What do you wa-- …ach, what are you WEARING?!" The Vykker snarled, lurching back dramatically.

The Intern began waving his arms, frantically pointing to the fallen Mudokon behind the screen.

The Vykker snarled. "What do you want? What about the queen?"

The Intern fell silent for a second, then perked up, holding three of his long, bony fingers towards the Vykker.

"Two words?" the Vykker asked. When the Intern held up one finger, the Vykker nodded. "First word."

The Intern glanced at the queen, then made as though to put something invisible on his head.

"A hat?" No. "A groosedeer?" No. "THEN TELL ME WHAT IT IS!"

The Intern made as though to scream at the Vykker, but its stitched mouth wouldn't let it. He pointed at the queen.

"Ohhh!' The Vykker said. "Fine, second word."

The Intern nodded, then suddenly, allowed his legs to give out from under him and collapse to the floor, completely off-screen.

"Wha? HEY!" The Vykker growled, but upon the Intern vanishing from the screen he could view the queen in full. "OH HELLS, the queen has collapsed!"

The Intern heaved himself back on screen and looked rather helpless.

The Vykker peered past the Intern and grimaced. "Oh… dear. Try and get her up. If she crushes those eggs, I'll have your heads!"

The Intern shut off the screen and hurried back to the others. The Interns heaved, pushing the seemingly-lifeless queen up again and helped her support herself. Panting, she came to.

The intern pointed to some chains hanging on the wall, and two others went to fetch them, attaching them to her upper arms and to two pillars around them. Once relaxed, she lay limply, unable to fall due to the chains squeezing her arms. They hurt, but she was too tired to care.

"What are you looking at?" she hissed. "Get back there… please. Get my eggs."

The Interns stared at one another.

"Get them and remove them… I'll give them to you. I don't want them when…"

Nervously, the Interns moved around behind her and prepared for their usual duties.


	2. Chapter 2

A day passed. The Mudokon was awakened by the alarm blaring in her ears and a handful of sligs urging them onward. Her ankles hurt terribly and she would've given anything to have them taken care of. It took awhile before anyone seemed to notice her silent agony. Many of the other Mudokons frowned at her as she passed, but did nothing to help her. And she knew why.

"Hey, Vula," someone grunted.

"Yeah?" she asked, leaning up against the wall as she fought for her balance.

"What'd they do to you?"

"I think they broke my ...my ankles. It hurts."

"Better not let 'em see you cry, or you know what'll happen."

Vula knew all too well. She had heard a story of one Mud on the lower levels who had broken his shoulder. He had begged his overseeing slig to let him go to the infirmary. This resulted in his other shoulder broken. Then he disappeared. Vula didn't want to complain to anyone.

She stumbled out of the quarters, past the stockyards. Scrabs and paramites had always fascinated her - in some mysterious, instinctive way, as though there were some innate knowledge far beyond her normal perception. She suspected the others felt this way, but many of them were forced to forget. Like the domesticated slog forgot its wild ancestors, and the stockyards were full of animals that had long forgotten their past. She suspected that even sligs had once lived in the wild.

But each step brought her pain enough to snap her into reality. Logic reminded her of many things. Broken bones did happen, and if the break was not severe - or merely a fracture - use of it was still possible. Her ankles looked terrible, more swollen than normal, and bruised a dark purple. They wouldn't waste money on a cast for her - she just had to hope that they would put her to work that didn't involve great use of her legs.

Surprisingly, it seemed her punishment had ended. According to her schedule, she was assigned to scrubbing floors all that week. And wonderfully enough, most of those places were accessible by ball car. She'd have to stand, but it was better than walking. She heaved a sigh of relief. As long as she was careful, then perhaps her ankles would not suffer.

During that week, she focused on her tasks. Perhaps the sligs were not interested in her. Her ankles were broken, she couldn't run, but she could still work. The slig assigned to her post was one she didn't recognize. He seemed too interested in his own weapon to bother with her. She and the Mudokon nearby simply did not speak and tried to make themselves as invisible as possible.

Sometime near the end of the week, it seemed that all was going well again. She was escorted by a slig to what seemed to be the infirmary. Having never been there herself, she was really nervous at the sight of the Vykker working in the office - and the massive tools she'd used. But he merely examined her ankles.

"Hmmm...the lateral malleolus has be.. er.. Only one is fractured, the other one sprained," he said slowly - or she. One could never tell with Vykkers.

He began fishing through a drawer, and produced what seemed to be a collection of leather straps.

"Just wrap this around your ankle like so," he said, not really teaching her how to do it. "It'll hold the ankle in place. As for the other one, just stretch and rotate it before bed and it should heal properly in a week or two."

There was no true checkup. She was in an out within ten minutes. Had she been free, she might've undergone physical therapy. But a trip to a doctor was better than nothing at all. The strap was tight on her ankle, but it helped considerably. After two weeks, she removed it completely.

Once she was able to fully walk on her no-longer-broken ankle, she was sent to her regular duties - which included a rather delayed punishement: cleaning out one of the large meat grinders.

As she worked, Vula was very careful. She was well used to washing and sanitizing the grinders. It was much too big and too heavy to pull apart by herself, so she had to climb up on top of it and wash out the tray with mops. It was terrifying work, for sligs lay scattered within eyesight, most of them snoozing. As long as she was quiet, and didn't bother them, they didn't pull the lever that would activate it while she was inside. If they did, she'd be ground up and sold without hesitation. 'Work-related accidents', they were called.

Lucky for Vula, the sligs that usually guarded this area were very lazy, as this was a remote place within the building and rarely did anyone come back here. The sligs didn't want to bother with picking on one Mudokon. While she was a troublemaker, it wasn't often that she concocted such a scheme. Otherwise, she was a decent worker. Fat lot of good the work did her, as she was still picked on and pushed around by the sligs and occasionally hit by something. But now that Vula had something to work for, she hardly put up a fight. Besides, work was better than pain and boredom.

As long as she did her work, Vula knew that unless there was an accident, the Glukkons wouldn't have her head. She finished scrubbing out the tray and set about hosing out the inside of the gigantic meat grinder. She was in between levels - some ten feet above her was the platform the sligs were resting on. Generally, when she finished, she could either climb up the ladder to the platform and quietly pass the snoozing sligs, or she would climb down and leave that way - today Vula would have to climb down and head to the lower levels.

The hose was loud and the water was hot - steam was pouring up through the top of the grinding chamber and she had to step back to avoid the spray. The water had to be hot and of very high pressure - otherwise it could not be cleaned properly. The grinder was very powerful and could handle massive amounts of meat - bone and all - with little problems. This one had been shut down temporarily because something had gotten stuck. It was no mystery - most likely some clumsy Mudokon slave had fallen in. Vula frowned as the stuck piece - the half crushed Mudokon skull - rolled out into the bottom tray and behind it, the rest of the leftover scraps. She was far too used to this and there was no time to ponder its source.

Vula emptied the bottom collective tray - skull and all - into the scrap bin. This was dirty work, as it required several to do. Being alone (as punishment), she had to empty it out via buckets. It took over an hour and when she'd finished she had to scrub it out. When she finished at last, wiped her forehead off and walked around to the back of the grinder. There was an intercom there, with a microphone and several buttons. She pressed a combination of numbers - which would direct her call to a higher floor above the grinder, and grabbed the microphone.

"#73 here - grinder's all cleaned out now and I'm turning it on," she panted. There was no point in using her name. Sligs and Glukkons were the only creatures deserving of names. Among the Mudokons, names were common, but rarely did they inform anyone else what this name was. It would never be acknowledged. Under some extreme conditions, names were used - such as when the Mud known as 'Abe' escaped. Most of the Mudokons called him Abe - even the sligs stopped calling him by his number. Abe was just easier to say.

A slig voice answered on the other end, but it was unfamiliar. "Right," it said almost expressionlessly, and hung up. Vula switched on the machine and it warmed up in time for the conveyor belt above to restart. Soon large slabs of meat and bone began to drop into the loud, rumbling grinder, before it was emptied into the bottom tray and carried out along a separate conveyor belt, where it continued the cycle to be packaged. There was no slowing in production - there were at least eight to ten of these grinders stationed, throughout the complex, one of which was always shut down for maintinence.

Vula could not rest yet, even though she now smelled like rotten meat. She left and headed for her next assignment - floor waxing. After Abe had vanished, it was added onto Vula's ever-increasing list of chores. Usually she went where she was called for the day, but this was one of those default chores. She didn't like it - she wasn't very good at it and usually ended up slipping after she was finished. This chore took her far up close to the boardroom. Unlike Abe, whom she had heard really loved his job - Vula loathed waxing the floor. It was much too close to the Glukkons.

Vula feared going towards the boardroom. It meant going to the place where Abe was last seen - where he had vanished, likely mashed up into dinner and served up by now. As she polished the floor, she studied her own reflection in the floor. She resembled her brothers save for the small difference only noticeable if one really looked. In fact - no one could really tell she was female. There were very few females that she knew. Stories were passed about, in whispers, and even occasional curious glances were cast at her.

Vula had the vaguest of feminine features. Her hips were slightly wider than most of the other Mudokons, and her "breasts", if that was what one would call them, were hardly more than slight lumps on her chest. They didn't resemble breasts and, while she occasionally covered them with an old loincloth, they weren't easy to see.. They were hardly noticeable by the sligs, whose eyesight was rather poor. But the proof lay in what was beneath her loin cloth. She never removed it around the others, just to avoid suspicion. She had enough as it was. She had the necessary equipment, but she doubted any of it actually worked.

When it came time for them to shower, she often risked not having enough time and always kept her back to everyone. They may have been siblings, but any of them would've ratted her out for his own freedom. The other Mudokons were virtually gender-neutral, and Vula didn't bother to look and see if that was true or not. They had nothing to hide, but Vula just preferred to keep to herself anyway.

At last, the floor was finished, and a terrified peek in the boardroom once the sligs weren't looking showed her that it was empty. While she was on her way to the closet to put the waxer away, one of the sligs slid across the floor and crashed into a heap on the wall. Vula scrambled to escape before it noticed.

--

"Ugh..." Drog reloaded his Blunderbuss and fired a volley of rounds at the cardboard Mudokon cutout. With this weapon, he was told it didn't exactly matter where he hit unless he had specific instructions. While he was not trained in use of the weapon, he figured out through trial and error everything he needed to know. It was basically a semi-automatic weapon, able to fire single shots as well as quick bursts and full automatic. It could be reloaded quickly and fired just as quickly, although it was rarely required. He'd been at this all day and he wondered vaguely where ammunition for these things were purchased or made.

He learned many things throughout the many days he was with his own again. First - it was every slig for himself. Second - the slig with the biggest weapon had the most power. Third - coffee and cigarettes were addictive. When he wasn't working, he followed the others to the lounge, where he fixed himself some coffee and hoarded his moolah for the only thing that mattered - a big gun. He had his eyes on something called a Magnum, which was much bigger-looking than his standard-issue Blunderbuss.

Sligs that carried these were respected. He'd spotted other, larger sligs, several times his size and built like tanks. These he avoided altogether, if he could. However, sometimes it couldn't be helped. When he encountered these steroid-pumped sligs he was either picked on or ignored altogether - either of which could end in pain for him if he was underfoot. In the employee lounge, he was left alone - attempts to join in with gambling games resulted in his loss or his removal from the game. Drog eventually gave up and pondered about the incident with the Mudokon.

He'd heard all the stories before - Mudokons came from the "Mother", whose name he did not know, but she voluntarily gave up her children to the Glukkons to be hatched as slaves. He didn't know the reasons behind it, but his instincts told him that, based on the Mudokons' rather peaceful behavior, it was likely unintentional. Drog also knew that the Mother was psychologically messed up somehow - and he could understand why. Giving up one's children and knowing their terrible fate was taxing. Except of course, to his own mother, who probably was only in it for the moolah.

It wasn't empathy that really set him apart. Most of the sligs he knew generally didn't attack the slaves unless they were angry or bored – or pressured into it by another Slig. Drog was more curious about the slaves than anything. Where did they come from? What were they like outside of slavery? What were they like in person? They were called "employees", but their slavery was the worst kept secret on Oddworld. He didn't really want to hit any of them unless he had to - maybe someday, he would understand that twinge of sick delight when he struck one. But not now.

Drog, bored with his target practice, peered around to see if any other sligs had stopped yet. Some had, and were either cleaning their weapons or leaving. One was snoozing in a corner out of view of the security cameras. Drog, eyeing the others, backed away and reloaded his weapon before starting to head outside again.

"HEY!"

The rumbling voice made him halt, a shiver starting from his tail all the way up the to the back of his neck. He jerked his head towards the source. The slig facing him was huge, and he gulped, an iron grip on his Blunderbuss. The girth of the larger slig's neck alone was at least as big as the thickest part of his own body – if not bigger. It took every ounce of will not to flee.

"You got a good arm there, Slacker."

Drog blinked. "Er... thanks... slacker?

"Slacker," the huge slig replied. "In other words, any o'you sligs with the Blunderbuss. How long ya been here?"

"A week n' three days." Drog didn't dare make eye contact.

The huge slig fell silent, and then chuckled. "Try this sucker out." And the weapon he handed to Drog was heavy - very heavy. It reminded him of a chaingun.

His arms trembled as he cradled it, and a glance told him that every other slig in the room was watching him, expressionless. He gulped, forcing himself to concentrate on the cardboard target. It resembled a machine gun with a massive barrel and was difficult for even a normal slig to hold it. The other sligs snickered as the much smaller slig struggled to hold up the weapon, and fired. The resulting volley of rounds were much larger than those from the Blunderbus and exploded upon contact with the target. But poor Drog was knocked backward into the wall from the recoil. He yelped, nearly crushed by the weapon, and lay there, stunned.

Laughter exploded throughout the room and the big bro slig snatched his weapon back.

"You got a lot of potential kid. But yer just too small!" He chuckled to himself. "Take a hike!"

While not exactly an insult, it was certainly a remark involving his age and size. But Drog didn't dare protest. He just left. It was easier if he obeyed the larger slig. He pulled himself to his feet, biting back his whimpering, and headed back towards the lounge. His thoughts finally wandered back to the Mudokon from before. He wondered vaguely how her busted ankles had fared.

So Drog decided to go look for her after his shift ended. He'd seen her around, but it was for a fleeting moment, so he decided to check one of the security offices. There was only one slig in there, snoozing. Typical. He was tired himself, and, having little sleep, the sligs caught their winks when they could. He ignored the other and studied the keyboard. There were several buttons, each wired to a camera somewhere in this particular sector.

Drog wasn't sure where he could find her, but she was around here somewhere - he knew that much. She usually wore something over her chest. He pushed the first button, near the cafeteria. Lots of Mudokons were there, some eating, some cleaning. Sligs were eating too, but his eyes, although weak, did not spot her. So he pressed another button. After several button pushes, he at last spotted someone that might've been her up near the board room. She'd just left, so he suspected she'd probably head back to her bed soon.

He slipped out of the room before the other slig took notice and decided to meet her halfway. But he did one last thing first. Drog stopped by the slog kennels. It smelled rank regardless of how clean it was kept. It was also loud - there was barking, snarling, and general volatile exchanges between them. Drool was splattered on the floor. The slogs were fed very little - their main source of food was live prey called Fuzzles. They were tossed into slog pits, and the dozens of slogs would fight over them, only the strongest getting the food he so desperately craved. The Fuzzles, looking merely like blobs of fur with eyeballs, never stood a chance. It was once believed slogs were tamed by an ancient tribe of Mudokons. But being beaten and forced to kill for food could change anyone. After harsh training, slogs knew not to attack anything without being ordered, and they were eager to do so.

But Drog was only after one particular slog. It was still on the verge of being a sloggie - a puppy - and was half the size of the adults. Out of all of them, it was the only slog that wagged its tail when Drog approached. He'd been sneaking into the kennel for a few days now, usually with a snack or some coffee for the little slog. Once, he was caught, but when he insisted he was helping the young slog get used to patrolling, the report threats were dropped. Besides, the slog was very energetic(likely due to having too much coffee) and shook a lot, so they let him deal with it. He did not feel sorry for the slog, who was probably only obedient because it got coffee, but it was better than nothing.

He grabbed a retractable lead - one used only on the youngsters for heel commands - and reached in, wrapping it around the slog's neck. The slog hopped out of the small cage, the older slogs snarling jealously as he led it outside.

He had grown quite attached to the slog, whom he had nicknamed Sooz, and it seemed likewise. Sligs and slogs both have the potential to love and care for things, but usually it is beaten out of them. That doesn't mean it couldn't be brought back - but in Sooz and Drog's cases, they were all each other had. The relationship between a slig and slog was probably the only outlet for any affection - something nobody really minded so long as you weren't caught saying sweet nothings to it and scratching its belly. The truth was, sligs generally still felt those tiny urges to nurture things - but it was something even sligs tried to clamp down. They say you can judge a slig by how he treats his slog - and being nice to a slog usually was frowned upon.

Halfway to the quarters, he stopped. Why in hell was he wasting his time on some slave when he could be getting a nap in? Unfortunately, today was not that day. Once to the doors, another slig spotted him and dragged him off to another post. Oh, how he hated his job sometimes.

Yet another week passed. Vula found that one of her original taskmasters had disappeared and she was reassigned. In fact, her entire unit had been broken up and spread out among several different sligs. This was none of her business so long as her duties did not change, and they didn't.

"Didja hear!?" one of the Muds whispered to her. "They're sayin' that ol' Lurdo disappeared!"

Oh that's right, Vula remembered. Lurdo was the head of the slig unit that watched her. She did not like him any more than she liked the other sligs, but he was generally one to ignore the slaves and nap the whole time. But she hadn't seen him in some time. Apparently, some others in her unit had, and for some reason he had turned strangely sour. He made a lot of the other sligs seem almost friendly.

"No I didn't," she replied. "What happened to him?"

"They say," another Mudokon piped in, "They've been feeding him this weird stuff, and now he's off to some special camp."

The first Mud rolled his eyes as they stumbled off to work. "Psh, probably got rid of him fer bein' too lazy."

Vula remained silent. When they reached their destination - a particularly loud place due to the fact that there were several meat grinders below them. And to her surprise, there was a vaguely familiar slig holding up a clipboard.

"A'right, check yer number an' get t' yer tasks, move it!" he grunted.

Each of the Mudokons lined up, and when it was their turn, grabbed the pen connected to the clipboard and checked off their numbers. Vula knew only two Mudokons in her group. The rest were strangers. When it was her turn to check off her number, she glanced very quickly up to the slig holding it. Yes, she knew that slig. He was still the same size as she remembered him. There were two other sligs there, neither of which were looking at her.

Drog's eyes widened behind his mask. It was that Mud from before - he knew it. It seemed that they had somehow ended up together anyway. Lurdo's usual unit was numbers 44 through 53. After Lurdo disappeared, numbers 73, 74, and 75 were moved over to his group. And it seemed #73 was in fact the Mud he'd known. He didn't know her name, and he didn't care. But at least now he could keep an eye on her without it being considered strange.

And watch her he did. There were no more changes over the next few days and during that time he observed her as she worked. At first, he'd watch her between naps. Then, it got to where he was hardly napping at all.

Vula knew this slig, but she wasn't sure how well. It was best to keep an eye on him in case he tried anything. As she worked, she would spare glances to him as he napped. The other two sligs conversed with one another between their own naps. But as the days passed the slig in question began sleeping less and less, so it was harder to watch him.

Once, after the first week, their eyes met. Vula braced herself, focusing all her efforts on mopping the floor, and hoped he wouldn't be angry. Drog fought the anger bubbling up inside of him and stormed past her, moving to the end of the area. Vula heaved a sigh of relief.

But Drog had indeed noticed a peculiar thing about the Mud. She was no longer wearing the second loincloth over her chest, and he happened to notice why. She had some peculiar lumps on her chest. They were small, hard to notice - especially for his poor eyesight. But he had noticed them, and they bugged him. Maybe she had a disease and was hiding them. Or maybe it was something else... no, it couldn't be that. He'd only seen the Mudokon queen once through a picture, when he and an academy pal had made fun of her. His jaw parted and his cigarette landed lifelessly onto the ground.

He whirled, suddenly, arm stretched out, finger pointing accusingly at Vula. "Y-you! Yer a...a..!"

Everyone stared at him.

"'Ey, shut up," a slig grunted. "Tryin' t' sleep over here!"

Vula's eyes had widened, and the other Mudokons glanced back and forth to her and Drog. Finally, Drog realized he had no idea what he was talking about.

"You okay?" the third slig asked. "You look kinda pale.."

"I'm fine!" Drog grunted. "Never mind." He huffed, "Just... shut up."

The rest of Vula's shift continued on as normal, save for Drog's odd silence and Vula's trembling. Her heart had yet to stop pounding by the time her shift ended. She'd mopped the floor so thoroughly that it actually looked clean.

Near the end of their shift, a Glukkon and a slig passed by. The Glukkon appeared to be a wanna-be. It surprised everyone that a Glukkon showed his face this far down. He was busily conversing with the slig, paying very little attention to anyone else. Vula tried to listen in, but the Glukkon spoke so strangely with the cigarette in his mouth that he was difficult to understand. Suddenly, the Glukkon whipped his head around, glaring daggers at the Mudokons, and spit. The saliva hit the floor before their feet. The Mudokons backed away respectfully, while the slig accompanying the Glukkon merely laughed.

The rest of the sligs did not. Vula grabbed the mop and swabbed the floor.

"'Is name's Pox," said Drog, who had moved in between Vula and another slig. She had no idea who he was talking to. "Molluck's little assmonkey, apparently." Drog took a drag on his cigarette and shrugged. "Ah well. Shift's over."

Vula was entranced by the Glukkon, in spite of the fact that she and the other Muds - and possibly even the sligs - had just been insulted.


	3. Chapter 3

It's said that once you open up a can of Slurgs, it's too late. A bit like closing your eyes and walking off into a pit. Vula had no idea that she had done so. It was a subtle action, but it had caught the attention of another and now it was far too late to go back.

Said 'another' was a Glukkon by the name of Pox. Pox was known for his sharp eyes - he could spot a deal anywhere. And he had spotted something. He, too, had noticed something peculiar about one of the Mudokon slaves and it had only taken him a glance to figure it out. He was unlucky enough to have seen Sam, the Mudokon queen at least a dozen ties in his life, and he knew one of those slaves was female.

And yet, another had taken notice of her. Drog was downright determined that that Mudokon should be watched. He didn't want anything to happen to her - as new as he was, reporting her meant a potential promotion and some social standing among the other sligs. He couldn't have anyone else watch her at all - if anyone else saw her, his chances were through. He was almost certain the Mudokon was female.

Over time, Vula found that one by one, the other Mudokons drifted away from her. It could've been that she was a source of trouble. Every time she was around, something bad always happened to them. Vula was temporarily unable to do anything stupid - and she'd have to wait until just the right moment before trying anything new. But how could she make plans if the other Mudokons wouldn't listen to her?

Drog had placed himself in one corner and was snoozing out of view of the cameras. They hadn't spoken, and Vula wasn't about to open her mouth and get a nice bashing with a rifle butt. She crept closer to him, vaguely wondering where his buddies had gone. They'd disappeared for some reason. He had a slog with him, which was also snoozing.

She didn't know how long she remained there until in the corner of her eye, something peculiar approached. He was tiptoeing in a very comical manner, and she couldn't help but peer over. The Mudokon looked odd compared to her, a different shade. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked rather tired. As he grew closer, he initiated eye contact with her. There was something urgent about his demeanor, and Vula stared at him.

His skin color, to her surprise, was bright blue. There was something oddly familiar about him, and Vula cocked her head to mouth the name hanging on her lips.

"Hi," he whispered, gesturing frantically towards himself. She cast a glance at Drog and the slog before quietly sneaking after him. He brought her around the corner, where she spotted something that made her heart leap. "Follow me!"

Birds. Small birds, cluttered near the wall. Their eyes on the Mudokon before her. The stranger began to chant, pressing his palms together and focusing. The birds took flight, spiraling and forming a perfect circle. What seemed to be pure energy began to envelope them, and the birds themselves disappeared into it, forming a thin, bright white sliver, as though the air itself had been ripped in two. So this was the terrorist Abe. Now it was time to get out of here. The other Mudokons had apparently gone elsewhere - or through the portal.

Drog grunted, lifting his head at the shimmer of light nearby. When he realized everyone was gone, he urged Sooz upward and sprinted around the corner, weapon at the ready.

Vula hesitated, at least until she turned to see Drog and the slog charging at her. Abe was too busy concentrating on what he was doing. Vula bounded into the portal, but apparently, Drog didn't feel like letting her escape. He vaulted himself into the portal as well, slog right behind him - just as it closed. Abe shook his head, rubbing his temples.

"Oh man, they're gonna kill me for that," he hissed. It was too late to do anything about it now. With luck, the slig would be killed before they reached the Monsaic Lines.

--

Somewhere far away, the world was silent. There was no rumbling of machinery, no smell of pollution. No grime covering the ground. The sky was no longer black. In fact - there was no sky at all - at least, what could be seen. It was like a massive cave. The entire world seemed to be shades of green. The air was fresh, cool, and pleasing. What few sounds there were came in the form of birds and, very faintly, some kind of moaning, as though something were calling to the gods. There was dense foliage, moss, and soft dirt covering the ground. For a moment, there was a pause. Then, as though the air itself had been torn apart, a sliver of light appeared very close to one of the walls. The three figures landed in a tangled heap on the ground.

Vula's instincts kicked in and she scrambled away from them, desperately getting to her feet. The slog had rolled onto its feet and stumbled forward, roaring, towards her. Drog suddenly perked up. Not his investment!

"'Ey, Sooz! Back off!"

The slog skidded to a halt, trembling with anger and need, still snarling viciously at Vula, snarls laced with loud whimpers. Drog pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his weapon.

"If ye run, I ain't gonna stop 'er."

Vula froze, staring at the slig. "Why'd you call it off?"

"'Cause," he replied coolly, checking the gas gauge on his pants. "Can't have my investment gettin' away."

"Investment?" Vula trembled, keeping her eyes on the slog. Her ankles were beginning to hurt from so much tension.

"I know yer secret, slave," he said, "And I ain't about t' just let yers run off to yer native friends."

Then Drog did a strange thing. He reached behind his head to a buckle on his mask, and released it. The heavy mask dropped to the floor. He peered upward, then around, lungs quite unused to the clean, fresh air. He choked, and gasped for air. "Ho-- hack.. uh." He caught his breath, glaring sidelong at Vula, who was staring at him. "What?"

She blinked, tilting her head. "You... are the ugliest thing I've ever seen," she confessed. "So what's your name, if you're going to turn me in."

"I know right?" he replied easily. "Don't have one."

"Then your name is... Drog. It rhymes with slog, so it should fit."

The newly-christened Drog glared daggers at her, but something deep inside of him gave a twinge of delight. He had been named. It was a strange feeling.

A shrill whistle interrupted them. The three of them scooted closer together, whimpering as around them, Mudokons unlike anything they had ever seen approached them. They had the typical skin color, but they were covered head to toe with various tattoos and other markings. And they looked rather angry.

There were many more whistles, as the Mudokons seemed to be communicating.

"What are they saying?" Drog hissed. He raised his hands into the air, dropping his beloved weapon.

"I don't know!" she hissed in reply. "How should I - "

One of the Mudokons stepped forward. The feathers on his head were very dramatic, but not overdone. He spoke, but no longer was he speaking in the musical tone of before.

"We could tolerate another one of you slaves, " he growled. "But when you bring a disgusting soldier from the other side... it is an insult!"

The crowd of tribal Mudokons began to mutter something, stepping closer, and it was then that Vula, terrified, pulled herself to her feet. "Wait!" Vula fought for words. "He's ...er..." She glanced over at him, then back at the others. A plan began to form in her mind. "He's with me!"

Behind her, slig and slog huddled together, both of them humiliated and outraged at their vulnerability. Sooz, terrified into bravery, began to slobber and growl, trembling with rage and defense of its friend. The Mudokons' whispering grew louder and more frantic.

"Nice one," Drog muttered, "Now they're gonna kill all of us."

But then, they fell silent at once. Instead, someone else appeared. At first, they thought he might have been a moving tree, but as the crowd parted they realized what it was. Vula, who had never seen him before, felt a stirring somewhere within her, and she dropped to her knees. The other Mudokons, who had backed away, had done the same. The masked shaman raised his staff, muttering some incantation as he waved it over the three. Only the slog continued to growl beneath him. But it was very quiet and fringed with a whimper.

There was silence. Big Face lowered his head - or face - over Vula, who averted her gaze and did nothing. The silence was so thick that everyone thought it might burst.

"I've been expecting you." Around them, a gasp filtered through the crowd of Mudokons. "Stand up. Bring your friends."

"We're not her f-", Drog started to interject, but then he decided silence was probably the best way out of he wanted to survive.

The aggression did not vanish entirely as they stood. It was replaced with a grudging respect. Those Mudokons would've them hadn't the Big Face shown up. Sooz had already been standing and Drog knew he'd run out of gas in his pants soon. Both of them remained very close to Vula and attempted to ignore the surrounding tribe members. Sooz was very close to Drog, and he tried not to trip over her.

Vula and the others followed Big Face through what seemed like a cave. In fact, they were not in a forest of all, but an intricately carved cave. The three of them stared with open mouths as one by one the tribal Mudokons fell away. Big Face paused at a hut. It was woven tightly with reeds and moss, it seemed, and had a very earthy smell to it. There was a large hole at the top, and smoke billowed out of it. It smelled peculiar but was not in any way harmful. Drog sneezed, and hesitated. The shaman urged him on, and after a moment he crawled inside with the rest of them.

Vula was terrified and excited to be one of the freed slaves. Drog didn't really care either way for the huge caverns, but he was too wise to rebel. And Sooz was only gaping because closing her mouth for extended periods of time grew tiresome. She was excited by all of the new smells, even though she was hungry.

"You are one of many slaves that have come here from Rupture Farms. I imagine you have never seen a place like this... Vula?"

Vula gulped. "...No... I haven't." She didn't ask how he knew her name. Instead, she asked. "Why were you expecting me?"

"Not now. First you must rest. Normally we do not take kindly to Industrial types.." He eyed the slog and slig. "But we do understand honor. Your friends will be under constant surveillance, but you will be rested with the other slaves until morning. Now then."

There was no order given. A heavily tattooed Mudokon stepped inside. He was stocky, particularly compared to the rest of the undernourished Mudokons, and looked downright intimidating. He looked serious, and made no eye contact. Vula followed him outside, but as soon as Sooz and Drog followed, their path was blocked. Two Mudokons stood in their way, spears intentionally separating Mudokon from Slig.

"No industrials beyond THIS point," came the hissing reply of one of the guards.

Vula stared helplessly at Drog, but he didn't look at her. His attention was focused on the slog, who had completely forgotten about the Mudokons and was exploring every inch of the small hut.

The tattooed guard huffed noisily. Twitching, Vula sighed and turned after him. She didn't get a chance to check on the two who had somehow become her 'friends' in the span of a few moments.

She was led down into another cave. It was lit by strange and glowing patterns in the rocks and Vula was eager to learn what these were. But he was moving much too quickly, and she had to practically jog to keep up with him. The passageway opened up into a massive area. It was warm, humid, and Vula inhaled deeply. She felt somewhat strange - as though she were experiencing deja vu. But it was different somehow.

"What is this place?" she asked him, gesturing to the massive room. The Mudokon kept going, down another tunnel, until it opened out into a larger area. They were no longer within a cave - color was draining from the sky overhead, nightfall on its way.

"It was where we once kept our queen," he said.

Vula hugged her shoulders and sighed.

"This is the Sanctum. The new arrivals sleep here until we are able to find them a place to stay." He then turned and left.

Inside the dimly lit room, Vula saw that there were at least a dozen other Mudokons in the room - at least on the ground level. Above them, there were others meditating, chanting to platforms were lifted up over their heads - this was some kind of meeting place.

"Hey!" someone shouted. Vula's head snapped and she stared into the face of someone vaguely familiar. Her eyes widened. "T-Tom?"

Tom grinned at her, adjusting his glasses to get a better look at her.

"What happened to your stitches?"

"In the flesh. Got 'em out about a week ago," he replied. "How've you been since we last met?"

"G-great," she stammered. Tom was one of the first Mudokons to be freed - a long time ago, and she was glad to see him again.

"Come on," he said, "There's a place to sleep over this way."

All around her, the other Mudokons appeared quite happy in their mingling, some of them waving to her as she passed. She was overwhelmed with the feeling of freedom, and a terrible fear of falling asleep. What if she woke up, and it was only a dream?

However, not long after they'd settled, the strange feeling of deja vu overtook her and she slumped into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the first time she'd slept for several hours without being roused. And it gave Vula a headache. She awoke after five hours, rubbing her temples in the darkness, and lay there, head throbbing, listening to the muffled snores of who appeared to be her comrades. The fires had turned to glowing ashes in the dark. Tom was missing, but she was still too tired to chase after him.

Crickets chirped and faint chanting echoed. Frogs croaked. Now and then a tiny light would twinkle, a soft blue glow that was easy on the eyes. Vula stretched and felt her eyes grow heavy. Her body, used to hard labor, was aching to rise, and she wanted to go exploring. There was a slight chill in the air but it wasn't anything she wasn't used to. Overhead, it was still dark. Stars flooded the sky - billions upon billions of the celestial bodies shining brighter than any light in Rupture Farms. The moon was waxing, but she could see part of the legendary pawprint beginning to emerge.

Vula had no idea when she'd fallen back asleep.

It was not yet daylight when a whistle sounded through the gigantic cave. The slaves, most of which slept rather heavily, were loathe to rise. Vula was one of them, although she forced herelf to her feet and looked around, wondering what was going on. Mudokons had begun to pour into the Sanctum, and soon it was virtually standing-room only.

Big Face seemed to drop out of thin air, landing on one of the great stones above them. Other shamen appeared alongside him. Apparently, they had been awake long before she and her fellow slaves had, and this was apparent by the irritated stares in their direction. The slaves took great care to avoid them.

"Good morning, my friends," Big Face grunted. "I'm sure you have all met your familiars by now. Varg, you may begin."

"Slaves with sewn lips will line up before me!" Shouted the guard that had originally led Vula to the hut. His voice, while it sounded like every other Mudokon's, seemed somewhat more gruff. It was a difficult thing to do, with the bubbly voice of her species.

Vula's fingers gingerly felt the thick thread that tied her lips together, forcing her speech to seem awkward somehow. Heart pounding, she followed a handful of slaves towards the guard. When he produced a blade, her eyes widened and she attempted to back away, but a slave behind her shoved her forward.

She recognized several of her bunkmates, but even if they recognized her, their eyes were questioning as they studied her. Was it her indeterminable gender? Or was it that she'd done the unforgiveable and brought a slig and a slog into their safehaven? Some of the slaves didn't have stitched lips, and so were permitted to sit across from the natives, who ignored them.

The Mudokon at the head of the line kneeled and the tattooed guard held back his lips with two fingers, using his other hand to saw through the thread. The slave was wincing - she could see it from her position near the middle, but when the thread was cut the guard pulled away the thread and repeated on the other side. In only a few moments the thread that held his silence was gone and the slave was led away to where the rest of the already freed slaves sat - opposite the sitting villagers.

The line gradually grew shorter and to her distress, she saw that the knife was a kind of sewing knife that appeared to be made of bone. She knew bone well. It was serrated, and the Mudokon before her was whimpering as his stitches were removed. She stepped forward after he was done, kneeled, and before she prepared to squint her eyes, a flash of green caught her eye.

Drog and his pet slog were sitting near the freed slaves, three heavily armed Mudokons on either side and behind them. A pair of fingers and a thumb latched onto her lips and she braced herself as the knife sawed into the thread between them. The pain was lessened by his fingers pressing on her lip, but she felt it deep in her mouth and tensed. However, it was over in a few moments, and he sawed away the other one before he released her. Rubbing her sore mouth, she licked her lips and tried to fathom the sudden freedom she'd been given as she sat down near the other slaves.

Once all of the Mudokons were freed, Big Face spoke. Around him, the other shamen threw some sort of powder into the fires, sending them roaring into an explosion before it died down again. Some of the Mudokons, ignoring him, were playing with the new holes in their lips, causing the others to snicker and the natives to glower disgustedly in their direction.

"I have spoken with the gods. And they gave me a message. Our mother is dying."

Everyone gasped, save for the slaves, who merely frowned in confusion and pity.

"But fear not. The next Mother is here among us!" Again, the guards threw the powder into the fire. Everyone stared at Vula, who jerked her head back and forth, confused.

"Who?" Vula asked, scooting back. "Me? I don't think ... what are you talking about!? Who is the mother?"

Big Face fell silent. "Vula. Do you know the history of our people?" Vula shook her head, frowning. "I will tell you. But in a moment. Everyone - please return to your duties. I will call you again when the time is right." Big Face gestured to Drog and Sooz. "You two - come here please."

As everyone left, Big Face studied Vula. "The Mother - Sam, is responsible for giving us all life. But long ago, The Magog Cartel made a deal with her, offering her children a future. She took it, it was a trick, and now she is forced to bear children for profit." Vula frowned. "And now she lays there, on her deathbed, drugged, and waiting for death."

Vula frowned, eyeing Drog and the slog, who remained silent. Drog seemed rather impassive.

"But I imagine you are hungry. Food will arrive later today, when the hunters return." Big Face snapped his fingers. "Until then, I'm going to ask you to do something for me."

"What?" Vula raised an eyebrow.

"We're going to do a fertility test."

Vula choked. "A WHAT!?" She scooted away from Big Face. "Oh HELL no!"

The slog growled. Drog snickered to himself.

Big Face was silent for a moment. "It is necessary and will tell us when you are ovulating." He folded his arms over his chest, although this was hidden by the large mask he wore.

Vula smacked herself. "Can we wait until... later?"

Drog's laughter had increased. One of the guards suddenly elbowed him harshly in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping.

"No." Big Face's response was immediate and serious. "It is imperative that you do this, Vula. Otherwise our race will die."

Vula coughed. "Say I become fertile. What happens to me? And why hasn't it happened before? And and... WHO am I going to be ...breeding with?"

"Questions questions questions," Big Face shook his head. "This way. If there were more females, I would have them do this, but there are very few on Mudos. So come. It is best to get this over with." Big Face simply began walking towards his hut, and for the first time Vula noticed the various gourds and beads about it. It was as though he was trying to ward away evil. She bit her lip and went inside the hut. This time, the guards did not stop Drog or Sooz.

There was a table prepared for them, and Big Face patted it. Vula climbed up on it, while the others waited on the floor.

Big Face was facing the opposite way, preparing something in a vial. He reached over towards her wrist and with a swift move his fingers slid across it. Vula hissed, and a thin line of blood appeared.

"How'd you.."

"Shaman's secret," he replied simply, using another finger to wipe away the blood and pressed it against the opening of the vial. The drop slid down the side and into the clear liquid. Big Face watched it, while Vula examined her wrist, appalled when there was no cut.

"Hmmm..."

Vula turned her attention to Big Face. "What?"

"It's supposed to turn yellow.."

She stared at the vial. The blood was merely swirling about inside the liquid. "What happens if it doesn't?"

"I want to test one more thing. I apologize but I must do this," said Big Face. He raised a single finger, in a lifting up motion. Vula stared at him, outraged, but complied and lifted up her loincloth. Big Face placed his hand above the lowest part of her abdomen, hovering it back and forth, never touching her. Vula tensed, feeling a pulse of force slither throughout her stomach and other organs she didn't know or care about. Drog focused his attention on the strange decorations he had. He really hadn't wanted to see this.

"Gyaah! What the hell are you-- AGGH!" She shivered, twitching.

Big Face ignored her and took his hand away.

"But I don't understand.." he seemed to be speaking to someone else now.

Drog tilted his head. "What is it?"

Big Face snapped to attention. "Vula. You're infertile."


	5. Chapter 5

The Mudokons were alive with gossip. Differences were set aside and the slaves were discussing the latest rumors with the tribe members that hadn't left to hunt.

"The heir can't have children!" One of them whispered.

The air of the tribe was downright miserable. Word spread like wildfire and Vula found she couldn't go anywhere without a stare of disappointment - or downright disdain. She spent a lot of time by herself, humiliated and rather hurt. Occasionally Drog would join her. They rarely allowed him by himself - they had taken his gun away and his pants were getting ridiculously low on gas. It wouldn't be long before he would have to discard them.

"I don't get it," she confessed to Drog. "I don't WANT to be the mother. But why do I feel so useless?"

Drog shrugged. "I'm glad I don't have to go through with that. My mother sold me!" He laughed humorlessly. Next to him, Sooz nuzzled his leg.

Vula sighed. "But the worst part of it all is… what if I'm the only one left? If I can't have kids, what will happen to us when this generation dies out?"

"Well," Drog suggested, "I've heard o' gender shifting..." He cackled to himself at the thought. "But your race is feminine enough as it is. Bleh."

Sooz, in one of its odd moments, approached Vula and sniffed her again. Vula winced at its breath, used to seeing a snarling mouth as opposed to a gaping, expressionless one. Its tongue lapped at her wrist. Vula dared to pet it, running her hand past its crest and down its back. Sooz's tail wagged furiously and in seconds it was on top of her, sniffing and licking.

"Why is it being so friendly!?"

"SHE is bein' friendly 'cuz.. eh.. I dunno," Drog eventually admitted.

"What's her name?"

"Sooz."

"Well, I'm gonna call her Suzy. It sounds better than 'Sooz'." Vula eventually fell silent, kicking her feet in the shallow pool of water below them. "So what do we do?"

"We? There's no WE," Drog grunted. "Why in hell did you help me anyway?"

Vula's eyes narrowed. "Becuase," she said. "You OWE me. You broke my ankles, you little bastard, and I'm going to make you pay for it."

"You'll go see the Almighty Raisin," said Big Face, who had somehow appeared nearby and caused Vula to jump and drop into the water. It was very shallow, so she sat there, grumbling, while Drog laughed at her. Suzy splashed in the water after her, half-plodding, half-jumping in the shallowest parts. Vula guessed her body wouldn't allow proper movement in deeper water.

Big Face rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Despite our ...differences ...he is the one most qualified to help you."

Vula got out of the water and absently tossed a stick, which Suzy chased after.

"Where can we find HIM?" asked Vula.

Big Face pointed towards a wall very far away. "He is very far north of here. It will take several days to get there."

Drog tilted his head to one side. "Just great."

"Tomorrow night, we'll discuss more details," said Big Face, before vanishing again.

"Doesen't that bother you?" Drog asked, whistling for Suzy.

"What?"

"How he just appears like that."

"Oh.. Nah. Let's go exploring until tomorrow." And Vula started walking.

"My pants are gonna run outta gas dammit," he growled.

Vula stopped. "Want me to carry you?" She grinned at him, holding out her arms.

"That would be great!" Drog seemed quite thrilled. "But you couldn't hold onto me."

"Why?" He held out his arm, and she curiously ran a finger across it. It was rather slimy. She jerked back her hand and wiped it on her loin cloth. "Ew!!"

"That's why," replied Drog, dusting himself off. "Let's go, I'm good."

--

The land did not really change, although they had plenty of things to observe along the way. They stopped to study the intricate carvings, and one one rock face they discovered an elaborate story of pictures - told from ages hence.

"These things are pretty ancient," he grunted, studying the walls. "You know what I was gonna do to them?"

"I can guess."

The Mudokon appeared instantly before them, armed with a crossbow, tensed, and staring them down. He was covered head to toe with tattoos, and hissed at them, readying his crossbow until they stopped. After a moment, it released a shrill whistle, followed by several lower ones, before it ended with a rather disgusting fart. Slig, slog, and female Mudokon stared at him. The whistler remained steadfast, waiting.

Tentatively, Vula repeated it, down to the disgusting fart. And the other Mudokon nodded grimly before vanishing. Exchanging glances, they kept going, much more quietly so as not to disturb anyone else that might want to kill them for trespassing.

"I hope I never have to do that," Drog grimaced.

The cave they found was very small, and low to the ground. "Guess this is where I stop."

"But then you'll run out of gas in those pants of yours," Vula commented.

"I ain't leavin' em here!"

Vula groaned, "Then what?"

"I'mma go back. Yer can take the slog with yer if she'll listen to ye."

He left her alone. Vula pondered over the change in his attitude. It was most likely that, if something happened to her, he'd be punished severely and without a weapon he was utterly helpless.

Suzy whimpered, and turned around to lick Vula's face. Her breath was enough to snap Vula out of it. "Right... Suzy... uhm. So… go somewhere!"

Suzy spun around, woofing, and hurried on ahead. Vula crawled behind her. At first, she thought the cave was opening up, but moments later Suzy's woofing was coming from above her. She blinked, preparing to move on ahead, when the ground was suddenly gone. She almost screamed, but her arms caught what seemed to be rock, and she froze there. "Ugh... Suzy!" she cried, whimpering. "I can't hold this.."

In that moment Suzy showed what a strange and incredible slog she was. Her fangs closed around Vula's right forearm, causing her to wince, and the young slog, only thirty-four pounds, heaved backwards. While it did little to pull Vula up, she found her feet and allowed herself to drop off, feet and free hand clinging to the wall for her life. "Okay!" she said, "Let go, I got it.."

She pulled herself up onto the other side and rubbed the arm the slog had grabbed gingerly. It was sticky with slobber and there were tooth indents all along it. One of her teeth had cut into Vula's arm, but it wasn't bad. She just hoped she wouldn't get an infection. "Right... thanks." She patted Suzy on her head, and the slog trudged on. "Ugh, when does this cave end?"

Then the cave ended. Suzy yelped, her voice echoing downward. She lunged to grab the slog, only to slide off the edge and go hurtling down into darkness. There was a distant splash, and suddenly Vula hit the water herself - a shock of stinging cold. She struggled, the air forced from her lungs, and heaved herself upward, kicking reflexively until she broke through the surface with a gasp. Choking, she thrust out violently, until her eyes caught the dim shape of Suzy swimming clumsily ahead.

Her brain took over and Vula pushed herself after the slog, until her paws groped solid ground. She pulled herself onto the landmass in the darkness, coughing up water and trembling against the cold. She lay there, listening to the heavy panting of Suzy. Soon the little slog found her way to Vula's side and stood there, the ever vigilant guardian. Silence filled the cave and for a time Vula was growing frustrated. She hoped she'd get out of the cave.

When she could breathe properly again, Vula sat up and took a great sniff. Whatever trashy smell had filled the tiny cave was much milder. Vula sighed. "Okay.. now how do I get out of here?"

Suzy had begun to sniff around, plodding into the water as deep as she could go, looking around for anything useful. Her eyes caught a glimmer of something, so she reached for it carefully. Her fingers closed around something smooth and solid. Lifting it out of its place in the rock, she found it to be attached to a long rod.

"This might be useful." She held it outward, using it as a guide, poking it into what she discovered was rock and what wasn't. Near the middle of her little island, she found that there was another rod sticking vertically out of the ground. As the rocky end of her own touched it, her arm began to feel strange. It was a numbing sensation, like something was being sucked out of it.

The result surprised her. Tiny glowing orbs seemed to travel up the length of the rod, until they reached the center. In a flash of blue-green light, the cave was illuminated, the light source coming from what seemed to be a jewel encrusted at the top - like a torch. The walls were filled with ancient drawings. Vula gaped at them. Many featured what seemed to be paramites.

"Oh wow," she whispered.

Suddenly Suzy started growling. Vula snapped out of it, looking around desperately. There was a strange sound up above her, a bit like a combination between a chirp and a series of clicks. Instincts kicked in. She hadn't heard that sound since she was in the stockyards some years ago, and had nearly fallen into a pen full of paramites.

The spider-like creature was crawling on the ceiling, continuing the sounds. Suddenly it stopped, emitting a screech that hurt her ears. She didn't need to know it was calling its packmates - Vula was already jumping across the water to grab onto the rocks on the other side. The paramites began to creep in from other holes in the walls, clicking at one another.

"Suzy!" The slog hadn't followed her. Suzy's back was towards the river and she was barking desperately at them. "Suzy, jump!"

Suzy did not know the word jump. She did not want to go back in the water. Had it been one paramite, and had Suzy been fully grown, she might have taken on one, possibly two paramites, at once. But she was a sloggie, and she was terrified.

Vula surprised herself. She let go of the rock and swam towards the slog, desperately trying to ignore the paramites. Then Suzy understood what she wanted and leapt into the water, meeting her halfway. Vula held out the rod she was still holding and the slog grabbed it, refusing to let go as she pulled the slog up the side of the cliff. It only took them a moment to reach the top.

It was a narrow escape. As soon as they reached the top Suzy reacted out of instinct, going last and backwards. She became a monster, snarling and snapping at everything that reared its ugly head into that tunnel. Once, her teeth sank into a facial finger and she twisted her head, snapping it off. There was a screech, which startled Suzy and she stumbled backwards, even as more paramites poured into the hole.

Vula reached the exit, whipping around to pull Suzy out by her hind legs. They jumped back, Vula with her - apparently it was some kind of staff - in hand, and held it before her. But the paramites merely shied away from the light and disappeared into the darkness.

Suzy was chewing on the finger she'd ripped off, looking a little less exhausted than she should have. She growled when Vula tried to pet her, and the Mudokon decided it was best to head back to the village before the sun drew any lower in the sky.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ugh.. if I ever have to pull myself through anything like that again.." Vula huffed, ignoring Suzy's continual quiet barking. "Okay. I guess your breath has to be worse than that."

They found the slig snoozing behind some bushes, his green body camouflaged by them. Vula had only been able to locate him because Suzy followed her nose. The slig did not rise when they approached. He was grimacing, if it could be described behind his slippery, tentacled face. Slime dribbled from them, pooling in a sticky puddle on the ground below him. He was twitching, arms flexing. Suzy hopped up to him and started licking his face, to Vula's disgust.

Drog whimpered and opened his eyes. "Hnh. ...Oh.. hi." He rubbed an eye and pulled himself in an upright position. "So what'd I miss?"

Vula shrugged. "Uhh. Met some paramites," she rubbed her shoulder nervously. "What happened to your pants?"

"Ran outta gas," he sighed heavily. "Where are the paramites?"

"In the cave. For now anyway."

Drog shuddered and replied, "Then let's get back before they decide to follow us."

"What if they do, and it's after dark and they raid the village a-"

"Ah shaddup," Drog grunted. "They ain't gonna come in the village."

--

The next day, the village was alive with chatter and Big Face was before them, pacing back and forth and muttering to himself behind his mask. Vula stood there next to Tom and watched them. Drog and Suzy were once again under guard - but there was only one Mud guarding him. There weren't many people in the village center but it seemed as though most of the important ones were certainly there. Big Face, upon spotting Vula, made his way over to her and folded his arms over his chest.

"I have been doing a lot of searching and I'm still unable to find anything out, so it's to the Raisin you go," he said.

Vula grinned. "Of course! Anything's better than being cramped up somewhere.."

Big Face nodded. "Very well. I can only send two of my men with you due to the rising Industrial force, but I expect you should take care of yourselves."

Big Face led Vula over to a part of the village that she hadn't seen. It looked rather like a great barn. Within it were several empty, foul-smelling stalls. "You will leave in seven days." When they reached the end of the barn, Big Face suddenly turned to face them. "During that time I will split you apart and you will be trained. You cannot survive in the desert on your current experience." He turned again, and led them to an open field.

Vula stared at the strange creatures grazing. Most of them were a grayish green that blended in well with the Monsaic Lines, but there were a few other color patterns. They were rather intimidating. Each of them had two large, long, strong legs, and two very tiny arms that seemed to be virtually useless. They had no tails to speak of, but had almond-shaped heads with bulging, thick-lashed eyes and a pair of what seemed to be dark horns sprouting from the tops of their heads.

"What are those?" Vula asked.

"These," said Big Face, are called Elum. "You may refer to them as indivdiuals, or as one herd. They are our mounts, pack animals, and partners when we must defend our land."

Vula sniffed. "They smell ...rotton."

Drog gagged and Suzy, tail wagging, and sprinted amongst the herd. Some of the Elum stopped grazing to stare at her. Others ignored her.

"Watch out for the bull," said Big Face. The slog did not heed his warning. In fact, she was making a beeline for the largest of the Elum, which had massive horns and a bad attitude. She didn't even get close enough to bite. In a single sweep of its massive leg, Suzy was lifted upward and sent hurtling into the several feet away. The bull seemed to be snorting, staring down the little slog, who whimpered, wet herself, and scrambled away behind Vula and Drog.

Vula shook her head and reached down to pet the terrified sloggie.

"During the next seven days you will learn how to survive in the desert, how to defend yourself, and how to manage an Elum." Big Face eyed Drog and Suzy. "And we will help you to find something to travel in."

"Like pants?!" Drog bounced up and down on his powerful arms, and Big Face nodded.

He whistled. It was some kind of strange combination that Vula could not understand. When he fell silent, she asked, "What are those for exactly?"

"I will show you some another time. For now... " Big Face eyed the two approaching Mudokons. Vula recognized the tattooed guard that had removed her lip stitches. "Go with Varg. And you. Slig. You follow Max."

The three of them separated from Big Face. Vula followed the tattooed guard called Varg through the pasture amongst the now calm Elum.

"What do you know about these?" Varg asked her.

Vula sniffed again. "They stink. They don't look very friendly. And they probably wouldn't taste very good either." Vula's attempt at humor went completely unnoticed.

Varg did not smile or laugh. "Elum are ill-tempered, and it is difficult to form a bond with them. But when you do, they become the most loyal creatures _you_ will ever know." Varg had emphasized the last 'you', and there was something in them that suggested a verbal attack on Drog and Suzy. "Pick one."

Vula, a little miffed, eyed the Elum until she found her favorite. It was a bright, fiery red along its back. The bottom half of the Elum was rather pale, but there were occasional red splotches along the whiter half. The Elum had very small horns, almost like lumps on its head. "That one," she said.

"Normally we use saddles, but you'll forego that." He gestured to a large structure not far from the pasture. It was atop a large tower and she could hardly see it. "Up there, is a bell. It is called the Elum bell and we use it to call the herd in."

The red and white Elum was not unfriendly, but it hardly took notice of Vula, and went back to grazing.

"Put your hand on its withers," said Varg. "Up a little higher. There." Varg approached the neighboring Elum and rubbed its neck casually as he showed her what to do. "Now you're going to vault yourself up on its back like so." In a single move he jumped up, and keeping his weight on the animal, pushed himself over so his leg could rise over its back and he could seat himself. The Elum braced itself but did not stir. "Your turn."

Vula stared at Varg. "Does that not hurt?"

"The Elum doesn't feel a thing. They don't have a lot of nerves along their shoulders."

"No. I mean YOU." At Varg's confused stare, Vula shook her head. "Oh, never mind." She eyed her Elum and after several failed attempts, managed to clumsily place herself on its back. The Elum bucked, and Vula hung onto its neck as it thrashed for a moment before calming. "...Jeez! You'd think they hated me."

Varg watched her impassively. "Now, to make him move forward, squeeze his body with your legs." He did this, and the Elum began to move forward.

Vula was already unstable. When her mount began to walk, grunting the whole way, Vula found that she had difficulty keeping balance. "Ach, what do I hold onto!?"

"Hold onto the shoulders. We'll only walk for now." Varg and the Elum beneath him started walking. And Vula, in her clumsy way, plodded after him, trying to calm the irritated Elum.

--

"Okay, slig." The Mudokon sneered. "Let's get started. Go find some scrap metal and we'll make you some of those pants you wear."

Drog hesitated, but made his way outside of the strange cave. He was on the outskirts of the Lines. There were piles upon piles of metal and other junk pieces. For a moment a shot of thrill exploded inside him. He could find some good pieces and make some awesome pants! But ...he'd never built pants in his life. And he cursed himself silently as he crawled around the piles. Suzy marched faithfully alongside him. Drog eventually approached a pile and started digging with one arm, pulling pieces of metal away.

Suzy sniffed much of it, wagging her tail and barking at the familiar scents. "Alright girl," said Drog. "Go to it." Suzy didn't need any further encouragement. She climbed up the pile, sniffing here and there and everywhere, looking for anything interesting to toy with. Drog was about to mentally compliment her on her prowess when she dug a rather large bone out of the pile and ran off with it. So much for good slog.

Drog was growing a bit irritated with what he had to do. He tossed a large metal rod out of the way, careful not to hit himself, when he spotted something peculiar. It was part of a set of mechanical pants. He dug in deeper and, using all his strength, lugged the central piece out.

"Ugh, you don't NEED a set of pants. Get some scrap metal and let's get out of here," the Mudokon growled from his post. "I don't like this place."

Drog huffed. He'd have to carry it himself, so he got lucky for once and spotted a long sheet of metal. He loaded the metal he needed onto the sheet, attached some twine to it, and pressed it among his tentacles and into his mouth. "Right," he said through the rope. "I got it."

Drog and several Mudokons drafted the plan for the creation of Drog's pants. The slig was excited, but the Mudokons were not. It was difficult work seeing as they had nowhere near the technology used for Rupture Farms. And Drog dealt with a lot of insults during this time. He tried to keep his head up in spite of this, but he was able to have his own creative outlet by helping to customize the design of his pants and mask. He made several trips to the junk yard, building up his arms and shoulders by dragging heavy slabs of metal and other things back to the Lines, and when the Mudokons eventually rebelled he did most of the work himself.

Meanwhile, Suzy was given special training. There was an old Mudokon who had a distant connection with a now-extinct tribe called the Mulletokon, and Suzy had taken a natural affinity to him. They spent a lot of time together, and the old Mudokon taught Suzy a variety of tricks, which Suzy picked up surprisingly quickly. She progressed from a young, bright puppy to a knowledgeable young slog in a matter of days. She slept less, spending many of her nights guarding the narrow, shoddy hut that Drog used to build his pants. She, too, could sense the coming events.

In seven days, Vula was taught how to ride the Elum, although she wasn't very good at it. She was told that she would learn much more that could only be taught on the trail, and her lessons were satisfactory. She was taught how to use a crossbow, basic hand to hand combat, and spent a lot of her time learning about the land she would be traveling on. She accompanied the patrolling Mudokons to their posts, was given tests of strength and speed, which she only barely passed. But she had one thing on her side and it was fear. Fear of going back - fear of being a slave. It was the desire for freedom that even kept her moving.

Big Face tried to teach her about spiritual enlightenment at night. He taught her how to chant, but all of her attempts to produce what she referred to as "the glowy stuff" failed.

"It will come when you grow closer to spiritual enlightenment," he said. He also showed her how to make basic salves and the many uses of Spooce.

"Spooce," Vula would often say, "Is a stupid word."

On the sixth night, Vula was surprised when Varg awakened her. "There is something you must see," he said quietly. He was ever serious in speaking with her, so she followed him. He led her towards the east wall of the Monsaic Lines, where two gigantic Mudokon statues crouched, forming some kind of gateway.

"Hey.." Vula mused. "This was where we landed."

Varg nodded. "Follow me." He walked down into another smaller cave and hopped into some kind of tube that Vula had always been too scared to take. But she summoned courage and jumped in.

The force of what seemed to be air sucked her through. She spiraled about, until she was spit out the top somewhere else and landed in a crumpled heap on a rather hard rock. When she came to her senses, she realized just how bright it was. "Ho... where are we?" she asked Varg, who looked extra bright in the moonlight. When Varg said nothing, Vula lifted her eyes further into the sky, to the moon. It was massive, and her eyes widened as she spotted the paw engraved into it.

"Whoa...! What is that?" she asked.

Varg did not look at her. "We are a race with a destiny. It is the sign of our people's great future. If we can continue our lineage." Varg paused, flexing his fingers. "We must defend our very way of life now, from the Industrials."

Vula stood up and rubbed her eyes. "It's so bright.."

"You will get used to it." Varg folded his arms over his chest and turned to face her. "When you feel as though you are ready to quit, look up at the moon and remember us."

Vula wasn't used to someone being serious all the time. At least, other than the workers bac at Rupture Farms. "Do you just not have a sense of humor?" She asked.

Varg stared at her. "What?"

"I swear, you NEVER laugh at anything. Do you just go through life with a permanent frown on your face or am I just not funny?"

Varg thought. At first Vula wasn't bothered, until Varg spent the next minute and a half with an overdramatic look of pondering upon his face. "Oh," he said. "No. You just aren't funny."

"So you're not mad at me that I helped a slig and slog?"

Varg shook his head. "I don't care. Big Face tolerates you, so I will do the same. It doesn't matter how I feel."

"So I guess if Big Face didn't want me here..."

"I'd kill you outright." And Varg sniffed the air. "It's almost time for you to leave. I suggest you head back to your bed and get your things." And just like that, he vanished.

Vula grumbled. "I wish I could do that." She climbed into the tunnel, but as soon as she let go she was sucked all the way out to the other side, where she yet again hit the ground in a heap.


	7. Chapter 7

Vula had been waiting at the western "exit" for nearly an hour when Big Face finally showed up. She couldn't help but marvel how it could be an exit if there was no way in or out.

"Fashionably late?" she asked him.

Big Face shook his great head. "Actually, I was preparing your comrades. You'll be in for quite a surprise." He raised his arms and gestured to the handful of Mudokons behind him. They parted ways.

"You better do us proud," said one Mudokon. "I don't want all my effort wasted."

Vula stared at her friends. Drog was a little, well, thicker than she remembered. And he looked just like he did when he worked at Rupture Farms - only better. His mechanical pants looked virtually the same, but there was an odd, circle with a glowing blue something on the seat of his pants. It reminded her of a jewel. His mask was also the same, but much darker in color and the eyepiece (apparently borrowed from the junk heap) was two separate units to give him better vision. He had leather gloves over his hands, his weapon looking something like the Blunderbuss she remembered so well.

"You look just like before," she said simply.

Drog would've grinned if he could have. "Yeah, but that's only the tip of the iceberg. I'll show you what this thing can do when we get out."

"No thanks."

Suzy looked the same, but she had a pink ribbon sitting on her head. She would've looked cute with it if she hadn't been so... gross. Drool still pooled at her feet from her gaping mouth. But her stature was different. She was larger, but not much, and the crest upon her head seemed bigger somehow.

Big Face nodded. "Now, these two will accompany you." He gestured to two Mudokons she hadn't noticed before.

"...Varg? Is that you!?" she asked.

It was indeed Varg. The Mudokon had undergone a transformation. He was entirely white, decorated with violet tattoos. There were rings on his forehead, where a crest of feathers sprouted followed the crown of his head. His eyes were outlined in black, and his garb was violet and navy blue. He looked a bit larger than before and on his arm, a huge, jeweled crossbow rested. In short, he looked menacing. Had they been creatures of sexuality, she might have thought he was downright sexy. But instead, Vula was shocked, amused, and rather pleased. He'd scare anyone away.

The Mudokon next to him was much smaller and feebler in comparison. He wore very few body paints and was the typical green color. He had a few feathers on his head but nothing else. It was Tom. The Mudokon adjusted his glasses and waved eagerly at her. He was peppy. Too peppy. Vula grimaced inwardly.

Big Face spoke again. "Now that you know one another, you will be expected to work together. There are many traps and the Industrials will be hot on your heels. Varg has a map of Mudos and the path you must take. I wish you good luck in bringing back our heir. The Mudokons will once again thrive. The task is in your hands." He stepped back, gesturing for Vula to do the same.

Big Face began to chant. Birds seem to come out of nowhere, circling and forming the portal she recalled vividly. "This will take you out of the Monsaic Lines. Now go!"

Varg went first. He leapt through the portal. Tom followed. Vula was surprised when Drog bounced upward and out. Maybe those were the upgrades he was talking about. Suzy chased Vula through the portal and the world peeled back before them.

--

It was sunrise, but since they were facing west it was hard to tell. Varg was still standing, studying the map they had been given. Vula took the opportunity to approach him. "So uh, how'd you get the cool markings and weapon?"

Varg didn't answer at first. When he finished with the map, he replied simply. "I earned the position. You won't get anywhere without me. Let's go." He began to walk. "We'll stop for breakfast and get our mounts very soon."

Everyone fell in line. Varg was up front, posing as the leader and guard. Drog walked behind him, since Tom complained of not trusting him. Suzy walked at Drog's heels, suddenly as focused and attentive as any adult slog. Vula walked dead last, behind Tom. She hated being dead last, but decided not to complain.

--

Molluck the Glukkon frowned as he stared at the charts on display before him. With a growl he turned to the slig standing next to him, a scowl on his face. "Why isn't she laying more EGGS?!"

His accompanying slig yelped, stumbling backwards. "I-- Don't look at me! It's the Shrinks' fault! He's supposed to keep her ha-"

Molluck would've lunged for him, taken him by his tentacles and slung him into the screen had he not been concerned about being proper. Instead, he stepped forward and bent over slightly, glaring dangerously into the slig's eyes. "I DON'T CARE WHOSE FAULT IT IS - FIX IT!"

The valet slig hunched down and whimpered. "I'll try! She's getting sicker and there's RUMORS!" He raised his arms as though he could somehow defend himself. Truly, Molluck couldn't have possibly done anything to harm him personally. But Molluck was the most powerful Glukkon in the world and no one dared to anger him.

Molluck's tone grew deadly serious. "I don't care about the rumors. If the queen isn't laying eggs, there won't be anymore slaves. And if there are no slaves, there won't be any production." His voice rose. "AND IF THERE IS NO PRODUCTION, THERE IS NO MOOLAH AND YOU - You will lose MORE than just your job, you insignificant slurg!"

His voice was enough to drive the slig back. "Alright alright! I'll go talk to the Vykkers!" He sprinted out of the room, holding his hat in one hand so it wouldn't fall off.

An hour later, the screen changed, and Molluck was distracted. There was a Vykker, speaking into a camera at another computer system far away, and connecting it to his.

"Molluck the Glukkon, do you want the good or bad news?" He hissed, staring at the Glukkon.

Molluck had to restrain his urge to twitch. The Vykkers were downright creepy looking, even for him. "I don't CARE. Just TELL me why the queen isn't laying eggs!"

The Vykker said nothing at first. "The Mudokon Queen is dying."

Molluck's thick lower lip stretched until he was frowning considerably. "Hmm. Dying. Are there any other Queens left?"

"No... at least. Not that we know of."

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE SCIENTISTS?" Molluck roared. "Can't you do ANYTHING RIGHT?"

"Molluck, sir. We are doing everything we can, but her eggs have decreased to only a few per day and are now being sold to the highest bidder. That is your only option."

Molluck was getting more and more paranoid. "GET OUT THERE AND FIND ANOTHER QUEEN!"

The Vykker was ever patient. "Of course." The screen closed and Molluck was left seething to himself.

--

Varg did not warn anyone that the stables were nearby. It irritated them considerably, but they didn't say anything. They hadn't even gotten their rides yet and they were already growing irritated with one another. Drog was the most irritated of them all though. He'd wanted to show off his new equipment but no one would give him a chance to. That was the most annoying part of all. Suzy was feeding off Drog's emotions and was growling, which terrified Tom and made him cling to Vula, who was trying her hardest not to shove him away.

As they approached the smell of Elum was potent and to their surprise there was a lone Mudokon guarding it. He looked to be a shepherd of some kind, and there was reason for it, as there were many Meep grazing among the Elum.

"A mudarcher?" the shepherd gasped. "Oh, they didn't tell me someone as powerful a--"

"Please, we don't have much time. Take us to our mounts."

"Of course!" The shepherd entered the stable and the others followed.

Vula gagged. "Ew, this one smells wors--" Tom's hand snaked around her head and clamped over her mouth.

"Not here, please!" He said nervously.

The shepherd led them around to a second row of stables, where three Elum were tied. To Vula's dismay, the Elum all looked basically the same, save for the difference in their saddles. The only Elum that looked different was the bull, who had large, painted horns and was covered in body paint. It was also the most vibrant. Vula knew it was Varg's mount. Sure enough, the mudarcher bridled the bull and led him outside.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked impatiently. "Let's go. Thank you again."

"You're gonna stick out like a sore thumb - you know that right?" Vula muttered.

Vula's mount was the largest next to the bull, and for once did not buck when she led it outside. Tom followed behind and Drog hoped silently that they would not have to run anywhere. If they did, he would surely be left behind.

The line changed slightly. Due to Suzy's incredible nose, she marched a few paces ahead of Varg. Tom stayed in the middle while Vula rode in the back. Drog marched in the back, the outcast. Not even Vula seemed to notice him anymore. He frowned and studied his Blunderbuss. It was just like it was back at Rupture Farms. He sighed heavily to himself, clutching the firearm to his body. At least he finally had his pants. He felt so much safer.

His eyes seemed to fondle it more than his fingers were. He could do it. He could take them all out now and be done with them. But he knew there were several problems. If he did, he'd have no one to find him food and he'd starve. Or dehydrate. Then again, if the Industrialists found him, he'd just be killed for fraternizing with the enemy. He sighed. He'd just have to follow them a little longer.

--

"Report!" Hissed Molluck.

"Sir! There have been no sightings yet, but there are increasing rumors of a female Mudokon living in a town by the Jarlonian Sea!" A slig soldier stood at attention, waiting for furthered orders.

Molluck the Glukkon frowned. "And?"

"It is only a rumor sir, but it's the only lead we have."

Molluck grinned wickedly. "Very good. Very... very good." He snapped his attention to the slig. "Send out an assault squad at ONCE and investigate. If the rumors are true, do what you need to do to get to her. And whatever you do, DO NOT HARM HER. I can't trust those Vykkers with this job." Molluck knew if he got to her first then she would be his, and he would be in control of egg-laying. Mother would be so proud.

As the slig left, Molluck grinned devilishly to himself. "I need her alive."

But someone else entered. Molluck snapped his head around to see the much younger Pox in the doorway.

"Actually," said Pox, "There is one more female."


	8. Chapter 8

The Mudokons had eaten lunch late and all of them were hungry. Drog had refused any food, and had strangely not allowed Suzy to have any either. When Vula protested, he replied. "I need to stay on edge." He gestured to the slog, who was whimpering at Vula for a piece of bread. "Suzy needs to be extra hungry in case..." He fell silent and walked away from the others, simply stroking his Blunderbuss and muttering to Suzy.

"What's with him?" Tom asked, munching on his ration.

Vula shook her head. "I don't know.. I kinda feel guilty. Like I don't even want to eat."

"Oooh - can I have your ration?" Tom held his hand out, half-jokingly.

Vula had been about to hand it to him when Varg coughed rather loudly. "Eat, Vula." It was the first two words he'd spoken since they left the Elum stables. The beasts were grazing. They still hadn't come to the desert, but the grass was growing much sparser and Varg was growing much more irritable.

"..Do you have it in for me, Varg?" she asked. "Seriously."

Varg didn't answer her. Vula frowned, eyed Drog, who had done nothing but stand guard all day, and stored his rations in the pouch of her loin cloth.

Awhile later, Varg roused them and they were off again, following the sun. The temperature was steadily rising, the trees shrinking, and plant life was almost changing completely. Tom and Vula found that they could make great conversation, while Drog was becoming more and more stand-offish. Suzy almost never left his side; ignoring any affection she was given. It was beginning to make everyone else uncomfortable.

While they were riding, Vula noticed that Tom was nearly the same color as his mount. She stared at him. "...Tom. You're changing color."

Tom grinned. "I know!" When Vula was still staring, he tilted his head. "Why aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

Tom stared, wide-eyed, at Vula. "Wait... are you saying you don't know anything about changing your skin color? Have you ever done it?"

"I was born a slave. They didn't teach us anything except how to work."

"And how to be hit with a gun," Drog added with a mocking sneer.

Vula ignored him. "So yeah, I don't know a thing about it. Can I do it too?"

"Yup!" Tom said. "What you gotta do is envision yourself as whatever you're blending in with. It's hard at first, but we've been doing it since we were little. Varg there's actually white because he blended in with his paint."

Varg shot him a glare. "You're going to blend with the ground if you don't shut up."

It wasn't long before Suzy began to whimper. Her tail stopped wagging, her body became stiff and alert. Drog stopped walking and eyed her. "What's the matter?" he asked. Suzy nudged his metal leg repeatedly, growling and whimpering and making such a fuss that the Elum began to copy her. The three Mudokon riders tried desperately to steady their mounts, who were jerking their heads this way and that in an attempt to run away.

"Dammit, slig, shut that animal UP!" Varg snarled. Tom managed to steady his mount, but Vula was having a horrible time. She nearly fell off, but managed to hang on. Tom reached over and grabbed the Elum's reins before it could struggle further.

"I'm trying!" Drog shouted back. "One sec." He reached up to his mask and flipped a switch. His vision shifted then, turning the Mudokons and Elum into bright yellow blobs as he scanned the area.

Varg and the others watched him. Varg, in particular, was on edge. He was frowning, instincts telling him something the others could not possibly know yet. The Elum and were terrified, standing still only out of force. If he let up an inch his bull would most likely run, which made him nervous most of all. What on earth was the bull afraid of? Certainly not the slog.

"We should get out of here," Varg said at length. "Something's not right."

Drog gasped. "Oh hell." Suzy began growling louder. Drog flipped the switch over his mask again and sprinted over to the others. "There's a slig patrol unit just south of us and they've got slogs. They'll probably head right for us if they find us."

"What on Odd would a bunch of sligs be doing out here in the desert?" Tom asked. "Unless they're here for us."

Vula shook her head. "They're not after us. I know exactly what they're here for."

The others stared at her. "The female," Varg said at length. "You, slig. Get on." He pointed to his bull. "Take your pants off."

In spite of the situation, Tom and Vula started snickering. "Why, mudarcher," said Drog. "I didn't know you thought that way of me." His voice was laced with a sneer as he unhitched his pants and folded them up before jumping on the Elum.

The three of them plus the slog began sprinting for a hiding place. Drog nearly fell off, but managed to hang onto his pants as well as Varg in the same instance. They spotted a small rock formation and made a beeline for it; or rather, the Elum did. Anything big enough to hide behind would work for them. No one had to tell them anything. As soon as they were well-hidden, Varg dismounted and started fiddling with his crossbow.

Vula sidled closer to him. "So what's that do?"

"You'll see."

Tom peered around the rock formation. "I don't see them."

"You won't see them," said Drog. "Until they get closer. They're about a mile away."

Vula froze. "If Suzy heard them, it's very likely that they heard us," she said quickly. "And if that's the case--"

"If that's the case they'll probably either come and take us out or try to avoid us altogether." Varg frowned. "Either way, we have to get rid of them."

Tom thought for several moments. "How many of them were there?"

"Six. Three slogs in between them." Having put his pants back on, he was peering over the rock. "They're heading west, but they've changed direction slightly and they're heading our way."

Tom continued. "What are the slogs doing?"

"The one in the front is sniffing the ground. I think he's on a trail. The rest are just walking."

"Okay. We need to distract them somehow." Tom had acquired a stick, and he was drawing something in the powdery dirt. "Say these green grass blades are the sligs. I'll bet if we can draw them back here we can ambush them."

Drog cackled. "You nuts? They're trained professionals. They'll take us out in a heartbeat. Our only luck would have to be is if we had a few freshies."

"I have an idea." Varg said quickly, peering over the rock. "Tom has a point. Vula. Grab an Elum and come with me. Slig. Stand over here."

--

"Man, it's hot," A slig complained. "I can't believe the boss'd send us out here like this."

The three slogs were also hot, tongues hanging lazily from the sides of their gaping mouths as they walked. The slig in the lead rolled his eyes beneath his mask, Blunderbuss at the ready.

"Oh, shut the hell up. If Lurdo were here we'd have gotten to the damn town by now." The slig in the lead was Grob. "Instead I'm stuck with a handful of you pansies." He glared back towards his squad members. "Listen. Keep your weapons up and your eyes peeled. I'm sure we're not the only ones out here looking for that female."

The sligs bunched together, but the slogs, more experienced in their line of work, spread out and the leader walked ahead of all of them, sniffing the ground for anything interesting. The leader growled, body raised and tail straight out.

"What?" Grob asked. The slog was twitching, growling unceasingly, jaws open and twitching in a snarl. His body was pointed towards a large rock face several hundred yards away. Grob grinned as he spotted what seemed to be some sort of creature lazily disappearing behind it. "Oh, hehe. Boys, we've got lunch right around the corner." The other sligs chuckled and changed direction, while the slogs fanned out of their own accord.

The large rock was silent - too silent. Grob was no fool. He knew they were still close to the natives' territory and it was possible they could've set a trap. Silently, he raised a free hand and jerked it in the direction the creature had gone in. The sligs obeyed, slogs patiently trodding alongside. After a moment, Grob headed around the other end - to either herd whatever that thing was or surprise whoever was trapping them.

He hadn't gone more than halfway around the rock when he spotted a pebble drop from the top of it. It bounced off the ground, followed by powdered earth. Grob grinned wider inside his mask, and jerked his weapon up to fire at the person at the top.

"Surprise!" Varg snarled, vanishing suddenly.

"What?!" Grob whirled to face a counterattack elsewhere, but something collided with him from behind, knocking him out cold.

The five sligs had found themselves cornered by Vula, who was sitting atop the bull, as well as the two other Elum, and Suzy.

"You think you can hurt us!?" snarled one.

"No," said Vula, "But he will."

The gullible Sligs glanced to where Vula was pointing, only to find Drog standing there, next to a snarling Suzy.

"Hey!" said the first slig. "You're that runaway!"

"Get 'im!" Drog bellowed. Suzy charged, followed by a Spooce-powered assault from Drog's weapon. The slogs rushed to defend their sligs, who found that they could no longer move.

"What the hell!?" One of them roared.

Varg had appeared behind them, and while they were distracted had begun to chant heavily. The sligs found that their bodies were entirely frozen, and had begun to panic. They were dispatched quickly by Drog's weapon and the slogs had ceased moving entirely. They were eying Suzy.

Suzy, taking advantage of the situation, snapped at them. She had no idea that it was her gender that kept them from attacking. Slogs had evolved within them a sense of self-preservation that would forever prevent them from harming a female of their species. They scattered, baring their fangs, and were shot down by Varg.

"What about him?" Vula asked, staring at the fallen Grob.

Grob lay there, a lump forming on his head, mumbling to himself.

"Leave him," said Varg. "We need to get to the Almighty Raisin, so let's go." Vula respectfully dismounted the bull and Varg replaced her. The others followed his example and headed after him.

Drog cast a glance back at Grob, recognizing him. He hesitated a moment.

"Come on!" snarled Varg, gesturing to him.

Drog sighed heavily and turned away from them, hating himself for all of it.

It took them three days to reach the sanctuary where The Almighty Raisin resided. Varg led them deep within the confines of the cave, far from the desert they had been in. They dismounted and left the Elum inside the cave entrance before heading deeper.

"How far is it?" whispered Drog.

Varg did not answer. The path inside led them deeper and deeper, lit only sparsely by glowing green things. Soon it opened out to a large cavern, lit at the top where faint sunlight poured through, illuminating the round shape of the Almighty Raisin.

Vula could spot small glimmering objects, reflecting off some light source she couldn't see. There were four of them, and very far apart. They began to increase in intensity, and as they did Suzy suddenly began trembling, growling, baring her fangs and whining at the little pairs of eyes that were on her level, here and there throughout the cave.

The four glimmering objects began to rumble, before they snapped open. The Almighty Raisin rested between two mighty pillars, connected by vines and covered with moss. Varg immediately addressed him.

"We have come to ask your advice, Almighty Raisin."

"I know. ...I was..." His speech was becoming slurred as he muttered to himself. "You.. took a back way in.. I can astrally..." Then, snoring.

Vula twitched. "HEY! WAKE UP!"

The Ratz around him, which she hadn't noticed, scattered. The Almighty Raisin stirred.

"Terribly sorry. As I was saying.. I can astrally project myself out and observe as I please, from all shapes and sizes and life forms. I am very glad you have come to me."

"We've come to find out what to do about our Queen," said Varg.

The Almighty Raisin shifted slightly, as though thinking. Momentarily, he grunted, "The Mother of the Mudokons is dying. I have seen it for myself and I am terribly sorry for your loss."

Only Varg and Tom looked upset. The other three looked mildly confused.

"Your friend here would have certainly become the next queen, but the air in Rupture Farms has poisoned her insides… reproduction is impossible for her." the Great Raisin continued. "But do not lose hope."

The others perked up, but Varg eyed Vula, frowning.

"There is one last chance to save your race, and she lives to the southeast – past the frozen mountains of Jarlonia to the City of the same name. There, amidst the mix of races – if you can make it all the way, you will find your next queen."

The Mudokons held their breaths.

The Great Raisin was still not finished. "But each of you will face terrible trials of your own. There are many shadows within each of you that you have yet to overcome, and must do so, if you wish to make it together. I have spent at least a moment flitting about in the personal consciousness of each of you, and I understand all of you."

There was more silence. Suddenly, The Almighty Raisin began to snore.

Varg grew impatient. "WAKE UP," he growled.

"Oh right," said The Raisin. "One more thing. The Industrials are hot on your heels, as you have seen. You must stop them before they take your queen. If they manage to take her… all hope will be... los…"

And then no amount of screaming would wake up The Almighty Raisin.


	9. Chapter 9

The five's journey was completely decided that evening. They built a small fire outside the Raisin's cave and sat close around it. Their shadows bounced off the side of the cave. Behind them, the three Elum nibbled on what plant life they could find.

"This is what the land looks like," said Varg, holding up an unrolled map and pointing it out to Vula, who was next to him – and the others too. "The Jarlonian Range is southeast of your Rupture Farms and the Monsaic Lines. "We can make it as far as the Mudanchee Vault within three to five days if we hurry."

Drog stretched lazily and scratched one of his tentacles, being much more gracious as he fed the slog her rations. She ate them as though she'd never seen food before.

"And after that?" he asked.

Varg frowned. "I'm not sure. That's as far south as I have been. You can see the mountains from the Vault, but we'll have to cross two different parts of the mountain range – which is going to be hell. We'll try to stay in the hills – the Elum don't do well in the cold."

There was a thoughtful, pregnant silence.

"Well, we could drop off the Elum. It's very likely that there are stopping points where we can get hardier mounts," said Tom, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "All I know is that I'm tired and would like to sleep a little before we begin."

"We should all sleep," said Varg. "I'll stand watch."

No one protested. Vula had thought that Drog would volunteer, but one look told her the slig was exhausted. And there was reason for it. He hadn't slept at all the night before and had been on his feet much of the time. In fact, he hardly seemed to ever sleep. Suzy was in like condition. While slogs seem to always lean slightly forward, Suzy's large head was almost touching the ground. Her steps were slower and she hardly ate at all.

The two of them stretched out quietly at the mouth of the cave, just out of the wind, and Drog fell asleep almost immediately. Suzy was still standing, but was also asleep. She learned sometime later that slogs were a lot like Elum - their leg joints locked in place so they could sleep without falling over.

Tom slept near the Elum, who were lazily stretched out on one side. It should have suggested that no one was around – but Elum were stupid, and each relied on his own ears. Tom would eventually regret sleeping next to them.

Varg hadn't moved. Instead he eyed Vula. "Go to sleep," he said. "I'll keep watch here."

Vula gave in and stretched noisily. "Mmkay, talk to you tomorrow." She headed over to the other side of the cave, opposite Drog, and curled in a ball against the rock. It was a little cool, but it wasn't freezing and as long as she stayed like this, away from the breeze and curled, her body heat surrounded her and she was warmer than the temperature outside. The last thing she remembered watching was Varg, who was still sitting there, staring into the flames.

Morning found her staring again where the fire had been, only Varg was missing and there was nothing left of the fire but a black heap. Then there was this awful smell. She looked over to find that Tom was beside her, just waking up.

"Ew," she grunted, rubbing her nose. "Gosh, why aren't you with the Elum?"

Tom frowned sleepily. "One of them kicked me. I think it was the bull."

"Probably thought you smelled bad," came the nearby sneer of Varg, who was saddling up the Elum. "Let's go, chums, we'll eat on the way."

It was no longer dark, but the sun hadn't risen yet. Its approach was signaled by the pallid sky along the eastern horizon. Sunrise found them well on their way. When they had been travelling north before, the southeasterly direction was a nice change.

--

Grob gasped as he pulled himself towards Rupture Farms. His pants were missing and he was half-dried up, but he was otherwise in good health. Normally, if he had been spotted without his pants, the other sligs might've just laughed at him. But he knew the sligs on patrol at this hour.

Two of them perked up when they saw him. "Hey… Grob! That you?"

"Huh. Yeah. Mind helping me out here?" He panted through his mask. "I'm a bit dry around the edges here, y'know?"

One of the other sligs, a freshie, picked him up and carried him inside, grimacing, and he was followed as he carried Grob to the shower room. While it was mainly used by Mudokons, sometimes the sligs would sneak in and use it as a sauna, keeping their bodies moist. Grob was placed near one of the showers, where he basked in the steam and enjoyed the feel of his moistening skin.

"So," said the freshie who had carried him in. "What happened to your patrol unit?" Another slig had accompanied the freshie, one getting on in years and while he wasn't elderly, had nearly twice as much experience as Grob. He waited patiently.

Grob groaned, rubbing his fingers along the sides of his mask. "Buncha freshies… all of 'em were shot down. Serves 'em right, but I was the one that sent 'em around.."

"Grob," said the older slig. "What happened?" It was more of an order than a request.

Grob finally spoke.

"The others were shot." As he remembered, Grob's voice became lower, more savage. "By a traitor. By a frickin' TRAITOR." He balled his hands into fists. "It was that runaway – a freshie that escaped with a slave. I dunno why they were out there, but he was with a buncha Mudokons and they ambushed us!"

The two sligs frowned.

"They usually hide from us. Why'd they attack you so quickly?"

"They led us into a trap!" Grob snarled. "I think they were onto us."

The older slig nodded. "I'll go tell the boss. Anything else you wanna add?"

"Yeah," said Grob. "Tell 'em that traitor slig had some kinda weird weapon that shot blue shit. I dunno what it was.. But they knocked me out and left me in the sun. If I hadn't woke up when I did I'd have shriveled up and died." Grob also gave credit to the fact that he was in his prime, but he wasn't about to say that to an older slig that could still kick his ass up and down the corridor.

"Right," said the older slig. "Fred, get Grob some pants and get him to the cafeteria. I gotta report this."

--

The land changed considerably with the day. It had gone from grassy to scrub-like again, and the mountains concealing the Raisin's Cave had slowly disappeared from view. The Elum trotted most of the time, with Drog at their heels or riding with Tom whenever he grew tired. Suzy walked at her own pace, sniffing everything and would trail along behind, forge ahead, or totter alongside. But she never went far. Vula bounced rather uncomfortably at first, but she soon learned the rhythm of the Elum's movement and it no longer required conscious effort.

"I see 'em!" Tom shouted, pointing at what appeared to be mountains in the distance.

Varg rolled his eyes. "Uh, no, you don't. You'll see them in a couple of days." He urged his mount forward to a canter, putting a good twenty feet in between them.

Vula pulled up alongside Tom. Their mounts eyed one another lazily and fell in step.

"Tom," whispered Vula. "What's up with Varg anyway? He's so angry all the time."

Tom chuckled to himself. "No he isn't. Not at all. He's always like that."

Vula frowned. "Well then why's he out to get me?"

"He's not," said Tom. "Let's put it this way." He leaned closer to Vula and whispered, "Varg and I have been friends since I got here."

Vula stared, wide-eyed.

From behind Tom, Drog announced, "Awww. He's just puttin' up a tough front."

"Well, why?" Vula asked.

Tom sighed. "Well… it's not my place to say. Let's just say he's forced into something he'd rather not do. You'd better talk to him about it."

"Hey!" Growled Varg. "You kids comin' or what?!"

Tom lurched forward as his Elum began to canter. Vula followed after him. Suzy, upon realizing she'd been left behind, whimpered and sprinted after them.

---

The board room became alive again for the first time in weeks. Molluck the Glukkon stood at the center at a podium, the rest of the Magog Cartel spanned a circle around him.

"Molluck!" One of them shouted. "What's this meeting about anyway? Y'never told us!"

Molluck was seething behind a mask of serenity. It took everything he had not to respond with his own shouting. He puffed his expensive cigar.

"Well," he said, gesturing to the screen behind him. "Ever notice the sudden lack of employees?"

The glukkons frowned, muttering amongst themselves.

"I have bad news, but I have good news as well, so keep yer suits on."

The glukkons peered at him.

"The Mudokon Queen is dying." All at once the glukkons exploded into mixed reactions. "BUT."

His voice was drowned out by the other glukkons. Molluck glanced over a the slig next to him, who fired a volley of rounds from his Blunderbuss into the air. The result was the snap of a cable somewhere and the lights flickered out. The Glukkons stopped talking. Seconds later, the lights came back on again.

"How'd that happen?" asked the slig, tilting his head up at the lights. He started to raise his weapon up, but Molluck stopped him.

"Are you paying attention!?" Molluck growled. "Now then. The good news is there have been confirmed reports of another queen."

The talking became animated again, but it was quieter this time.

"Some of my flying sligs have found the town," said Molluck. "But it's a good distance from here and well, none of us own companies that produce airborne technology."

"What about the Vykkers' Conglomerate?" asked a Glukkon.

Molluck grinned. "Oh yes. But see, if we found it ourselves, it would be much more cost-effective. And we could share in on the profits from her eggs."

There were murmurs among them, consisting of the words "cost-effective", "eggs", and "moo-lah". Oh. And "profits". Molluck grinned wider.

"How do you propose we get over there then?" one of the Glukkons asked.

"We can use boats. We can take some of the employees and put 'em together and – all we need to do is increase the workload and we should be fine." The other Mudokons were nodding amongst themselves.

"And Molluck!" said one. "If we keep 'er in our own facility, they'll have to pay US to buy her eggs."

"Exactly,' said Molluck. "So – everyone should donate – say, ten to fifteen employees then I'd say we'll get the ship built in no time. This project should take a couple of weeks or so."

"Are we building a fleet?" one asked.

Molluck shook his head. "No, no. I only need one good ship. General Dripik would love this operation, don't ya think?"

One Gluk started to interject. "But General Dripik's neve-"

"Shhhh!" Another one silenced him.

There were cries of agreement.

"Wonderful. And if we take our time it'll save on fuel, won't it? It's not like she'll be going anywhere."

Molluck turned to the slig. "It's settled then. Radio General Dripik. I've got a little errand for him. As for the traitors, well, we'll let him deal with them personally."


	10. Chapter 10

"I spy…" mused Tom. "Something…. Yellow."

Drog snorted. "That's easy! It's the sun ain't it?"

Tom cackled, patting his mount, who grunted pleasurably and kept walking.

"Nope! It's Vula's left eye!"

Vula blinked, rubbing her eye unconsciously with her little finger. Idiots.

"If you say so." She yawned. "Man. I'm bushed. When are we stopping, Varg?" She called out.

Varg had been riding ahead of them for the past two days. He'd been twice as irritable and hardly answered any questions. He'd hardly slept or eaten and they were beginning to worry. It had grown much cooler and indeed, the Jarlonian Mountain range was in view, although distant.

Varg didn't look over his shoulder. "When we reach the foothills."

Tom frowned. "That's … an awful long time from now."

"Not if we hurry," said Varg. He kicked his Elum into second gear and the creature began cantering. No one had galloped, and there was good reason –they didn't want to tire their mounts.

With a sigh, Tom followed him. Suzy, however, was getting tired, and began to whimper when the others began leaving her. Vula took a risk, stopped her Elum, and knelt down. The Slog jumped into her arms, nearly causing her to fall backward.

"Aah! For someone who hasn't been eating well, you're getting heavier." She heaved the slog up in front of her, where she dangled. The Elum grunted, clearly not liking it, but unable to do anything about it. They'd grown quite accustomed to the slog and didn't react when she drew close to their legs for shade and protection in the sun.

She pushed the Elum to a canter, although she was still a good ways behind the other two when they stopped again. The sky gradually darkened, and by the time she caught up with them, Varg was in the rear, waiting for her.

Drog had kept up with them. According to him, his pants were powered by some kind of hydraulic system or something and no longer ran on gas. It resulted in a hiss every time he walked or ran. But he could run for some distance without tiring.

"Look," he said, not commenting on her sudden disappearance. "Ahead. There's a rest stop. We can go there."

Before them, in the darkness, was something that looked like a multi-floored building. It was still several miles from the mountains, but within walking range of it. They approached it, tethered their animals to the post outside, eyeing the eerily vacant area.

"Shouldn't there be people here?" asked Tom.

"They might be inside. Let's check it out." Varg raised a fist and rapped on the door. To his surprise, the door popped open. "Well, that's odd."

He stepped carefully inside, motioning for Suzy, who stepped inside, sniffing like any trained search slog would do. Drog followed after, weapon at the ready.

"See anything?" asked Varg.

"Psh, no," said Drog. "I'm just makin' this look good." He reached for a lightswitch, and found it. The lights came on, and the rest of them peered inside.

Vula and Tom stepped inside as well.

"I don't get it," said Tom, "Why on Odd does the room have electrical lighting but no one is inside?"

"I don't know," Varg replied. "Let's just bunk here for the night. I'll keep watch."

The main room itself was not very large, but it had a couch, loveseat, armchair, and coffee table, much like any Khanzumer would. Vula curled up on the armchair, marveling at the plush and snuggled up to the pillow in it.

"Oooh," she said, "This is so nice! I've never hugged anything this soft!" She buried her face in it and giggled delightedly.

Suzy claimed the loveseat automatically, growling at Tom when he came close. The Mudokon raised his paws defensively and took one half of the couch. Drog claimed the other.

"Nice," said Drog, placing his weapon against the couch arm. "So I'm gonna take my pants off now."

Tom twitched.

"You have no idea how awkward you made that sentence, Drog," Tom replied.

Drog laughed and unhitched his pants. "I'd keep 'em on but I'll fall off the couch if I don't. You guys'll watch out for me right?"

Vula nodded.

"Wait," she said. "Varg. Where are you going to sleep?"

Varg didn't answer, but waited until the others were settled before he opened the door and walked outside.

During the night, Vula found she had trouble sleeping. She lay there, clutching the pillow like a vice, thoughts wandering back to Rupture Farms. It was slowly beginning to catch up to her. The things she'd avoided thinking about for weeks were starting to affect her. But Vula kept her thoughts to herself. Apparently, she wasn't the only one.

Drog whimpered in his sleep, arms flexing and fingers squeezing his Blunderbuss as though he had nothing else to hang onto. Tom seemed to be the only one sleeping peacefully. Suzy was twitching as well, but didn't wake up. She couldn't hear Varg outside, so Vula got up and crept into the kitchen. She flipped on the light and opened the refrigerator.

There was very little food inside, and Vula frowned. She didn't know if they had enough rations to make it across the mountains or not. Varg hadn't mentioned how long the mountain journey would be, and she didn't know how well Mudokons functioned in cold weather.

Her next journey took her into the hallway, where there were several empty rooms, all of which she explored. She frowned, opening one of the hall closets. Packed inside were thick fur-lined coats. She pulled them out and lay them on one of the beds. A glance in the mirror and Vula caught her form.

She was still as malnourished as ever, but she felt different somehow. She sighed and undid the hair tie holding in her featherlike hair and shook her head, allowing them to go free for a moment before tying it back again. Vula kept going, looking through closets until she'd produced several hats, coats and boots which she knew were for the long journey ahead. She had no qualms about stealing from a total stranger, it seemed.

"The Elum won't be able to carry all that," said a voice, and Vula recognized it to be Varg.

"I know that," she replied. "But we have to try."

Varg frowned. He pressed a finger against his forehead and dabbed it against the paint.

"You do that when no one's watching?" she asked. Varg nodded.

"Go to sleep, Vula," he ordered, leaving the room. "I'll wake you up before sunrise."

And then he left. He didn't disappear. He just walked out of the room. Vula shook her head, but snapped her fingers suddenly. She'd forgotten to ask him about his behavior.

--

The Slig Barracks were all in good order. Every morning at four the sligs were forced to rise and begin their morning physical training. The first half was done with pants while the second was done without. The exercises were brutal, but as the sun rose they were allowed to shower and eat.

And above them, observing their behavior from a tower was the revered General Dripik. The glukkon was half-leaning over the rail, watching various slig platoons. Some were drilling, some were practicing with their weapons. Others were training. He did not smile, did not show any concern for his sligs whatsoever. Instead, he turned around and went back to his desk. Lately, he'd been doing nothing but paperwork. Or rather, overseeing while his slig did paperwork. Sure, he taught a class once a day for two hours, but he was downright bored.

He had just sat down at his desk when his phone rang. He was sorely tempted to pick up the phone and scream into it. But Dripik was not stupid. His slig picked up the phone and held it up to Dripik's ear.

"General Dripik," he said into the phone.

The grating voice on the other end was one he'd always recognize. After all, no one had this number save for those that had the authority to talk with him.

"General, sir! The slig grunted on the other end. "The Magog Cartel has a proposition for you, sir."

General Dripik felt his mind slipping. He managed to catch himself by hanging onto the slig's voice. He hated when that happened.

"And what is this proposition, slig?" It was most likely Molluck the Glukkon's slig.

The slig explained to Dripik his mission. Dripik's facial expression changed to one of absolute glee. He grinned.

"So, then, Slig. You're saying that if I take some of my troops to retrieve this Mudokon, I will share in on the profits? …Thirty percent? Well, Slig, tell Molluck that he's got himself a deal. …Two weeks? Very well, I'll get my chosen troops squared away and we'll finalize it further from there." He hung up swiftly and, giddy as a little girl, hurried down the elevator (it might've cost a bit more, but Glukkons don't do well on stairs), and addressed his troops later on that day.

"The next two weeks are going to be spent training for a special exercise – it is a chance for yers, as trainees, to become soldiers!" He barked out the information. "There will be a series of tests during the next two weeks, but if your marks are high you will join us on a special mission." He gestured to the slig officers at either side of him. "I'll be checkin' in on you. Fail me and I'll skin you ali-- …"

General Dripik paused suddenly, blinking profusely. Moments passed and a pair of escort sligs quickly helped the glukkon away from the podium.

"Wait a minute!" Dripik complained. "I don't know what I'm doing here! What's going on!?"

But then he snapped to attention, growling to himself, and swearing under his breath as he headed back to his tower. This mission would mean his barracks would become much more popular; he would get a new medal for certain. But the one thing on his mind was Moolah. He couldn't wait for the adventure.

After all, if she didn't come willingly, he would take her by force.

--

Morning found the Mudokons, slig, and slog on their feet. They'd gotten up extra early, and were rather drowsy. Silently, they raided the closets and drawers, changing into pairs of thick pants, socks, and moccasins. Vula kept herself away from the others as she changed into more winter-friendly clothes. Each of them was in his own hurry.

Drog, too, draped himself in an overcoat. He didn't like it, but it was necessary. His entire manner was disturbingly paranoid. Once they'd fully dressed, they stepped outside. There was already a chill in the air. The Elum were huddled together, shivering.

Varg made eye contact with the bull he'd ridden. There was an unspoken message between them. Then Varg cut their ropes.

"We journey on foot from now on." Varg, after he had spoken, the Elum bucked suddenly and sprinted off in the opposite direction.

"Where are they going?" asked Vula.

Tom laughed. "They're probably going back home."

Once back inside, they packed the rest of their rations as well as what they found in the fridge and started once more on their journey, up towards the mountains where, on the other side, their holy grail awaited.

---

The Chronicler approached his doorway, wondering vaguely why it was open. He knew he'd forgotten to lock his door, but that happens when you live in the middle of nowhere. Nothing ever happened here. When he peered inside, he was absolutely aghast.

"I've been robbed!" he exclaimed, rummaging through his things. "I've been robbed!"


	11. Chapter 11

The weather remained largely unchanged as they approached the Jarlonian Mountains. It was getting steadily cooler, the hills became larger, and the Mudokons traveled in a single line.

"Why couldn't we just take a train?" Drog grumbled.

Varg did not answer him, but it was obvious that no trains would run through those mountains. Tom seemed to be the only one smiling. In fact, he passed around Varg and was walking backwards.

"Guys, let's play a game!" he said.

Varg grumbled, "We could play tag with our weapons."

"I like Tag with our Weapons!" Drog shouted.

Tom shook his head. "I'll start with Drog. Drog! Tell us a scary story!"

Drog frowned.

"Mmmm. Okay." He thought for several moments. While Tom walked backwards, Varg seemed about to say something, but fell silent. Tom suddenly tripped over a rock and fell on his bottom with a grunt. "Oh yeah! I have the perfect story."

Tom got up again and the others tuned in to listen.

"Back when I was at Slig Barracks, I met a man I hope you guys never meet, ehehe." He paused for effect. "His name …. Is Dripik. General Dripik. He ran my Slig Barracks and makes Molluck the Glukkon seem like a pussycat. He's one of the most experienced generals out there and well, if you see him, he's probably the last thing you'll ever see."

Varg rolled his eyes. "Oh please," he said. "We dispatched six of his patrolmen."

"Those weren't his, target-boy. Those were our- er… Rupture Farms'. I recognized the leader, but I never told ya. His name's Grob and I'm kinda glad you got rid of him. But Dripik. Dripik… There's rumor he skins sligs alive if they fail at the barracks or Slaughter School."

"Personally?" Varg asked.

"You know," Tom mused, "I've heard they walk on their hands."

Tom stopped walking backwards. He walked beside Drog.

"It ain't just a rumor though," said Drog. "It's part of the reason I didn't eat much then. I saw him do it with my own two eyes. He had the sligs without their pants and hung up by their tails, and instead of using a machine to do it, he did it with a knife – and he didn't even use any anesthetic." Drog shivered. "And… and I heard them screaming.. I'm sure you've heard that… but it was nothing like a normal scream. It was the scariest thing I've ever heard."

"So he did it with one hand?" asked Tom. "Did he balance on the other?"

Vula thought for a moment, then said, "Did he do it naked?"

"Wow, he's multi-talented!" Tom piped in.

"Dammit, shut up!" Drog snarled. "You tell something scary then!"

Vula thought, then grinned and said, "Well, uh. I can pee standing up."

Her response was varied. Tom's face repeatedly changed from confused to amused, to disgusted. Varg had a curious look on his face, and Drog started laughing. Suzy snorted.

"What?!" she asked. "When you're hiding from a bunch of other Mudokons different equipment you have to adapt."

Tom chuckled. "It's a good thing you're not queen then. I don't know how anyone'd react to that."

Vula fell disturbingly silent. Tom sighed to himself.

"Okay, Varg?"

"No."

Varg forged ahead, tightening his jacket around his collar. By now the chill had become uncomfortable and the mountains were so close they engulfed the horizon.

"Let's get this over with," said Varg.

The mountains themselves were not that big, but traveling them was dangerous and during the winter the storms would grow so severe that no transportation could get through it.

The mood had just settled when Vula spotted something peculiar.

"What the heck is that?" She pointed at the creature.

It was not unlike a Meep, but it was larger, its wool more stringy, and its legs were a bit longer. It only had one eye, but included with it was a single horn that curved out from the top of its forehead. It stood, perched on a rocky outcrop, with several others around it.

"I think it's a Moat," said Tom. "I haven't seen one except in my books."

They reached the base of the first mountain, and were fortunate that there was a rather worn path that they could follow. It was largely encompassed in forest, so, to Drog's relief, they wouldn't get the best view when they got higher. At first, the going was easy. The hills, while steep, weren't too tiring, and they were going strong.

Drog found that his pants didn't particularly like the hills. If he had kept his old pair from Rupture Farms, he would've done fine. But well, that was life. Suzy was having the time of her life – literally. She was reacquainting herself with her ancestral nature, sniffing everything, marking trees, and rubbing her body against things, testing its texture.

The day wore on and the three of them stopped to eat their rations – consisting of peanut butter sandwiches. Vula quite enjoyed hers, and gave some to Suzy, who spent an hour thereafter flicking her tongue in and out of her mouth.

Slowly, but surely, things grew steadily worse. They were nearly at the top of their first mountain when it began to snow. Through the trees, they could feel the icy breath of wind and although the snow was not harsh, it sent a clear warning for Varg and the others.

"Listen," he said, "It's going to get very cold tonight. We'll have to make camp whenever the storm gets too severe, and start moving again when it's not, got me?"

Vula faced Varg squarely. "No problem, but only if we alternate the watch. And tonight, I've got first watch. That way you can get some sleep."

Her domineering stature and tone was enough to almost confuse Varg. He frowned.

"Fine," he said simply.

They didn't stop even after it grew dark, and the snow was beginning to stick. Suzy was already having trouble; she whimpered at the cold and Varg, in what must've been a fluke of kindness, draped one of his layered shirts over her back and tied it around her neck. That seemed to keep her more quiet.

The group stopped at last, when they came upon something that vaguely resembled a hollow inside of one of the cliffs. It took a bit to get to, because the path was narrow and below the ground was too steep to climb.

Once they gathered inside, Varg vanished and returned, shivering, with kindling. He was about to leave again, when Vula stopped him.

"We'll go," she said, gesturing to herself and Tom.

"Wait," said Tom, "Define 'we'." He frowned, taking a step away. "There's a lot of things out there for someone li-"

Vula grabbed his wrist. "Come ON! Don't be such an egg."

She dragged him, struggling, away and into the woods.

"Now," she said, once they were away. "Tell me the truth about Varg." She bent over and selected a nice, large branch.

Tom shook his head, grabbing most of the smaller ones. They'd burn up fast, but they were numerous.

He rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Vula, just ask him yourself."

"He's so lucky," she said. "Wish I was like him."

Tom huffed and once he'd loaded his arms with bricks, announced he was leaving and left her alone. She followed after him.

Varg already had a fire going when they returned. He didn't say anything to her. They eventually fell asleep, with Vula the only one awake, keeping watch. She spent her time trying to come up with a plan.


	12. Chapter 12

The days wore on and, each one grew colder. Drog was getting worse. He and Suzy were at their most irritable. Suzy even growled at Vula for staring at her. Drog hardly spoke, concentrating on keeping himself warm.

The Mudokons were freezing, heads turned away from the wind as they marched directly into it. The path had long ago ended and Varg led them on anyway, determined that they should reach the sea soon.

The storm eventually calmed a little. By this time everyone was at one another's throats. Drog was ordered to keep a lead on Suzy. They'd run very low on food and everyone was worried she'd turn on them. And she might have, were she not so cold..

A glance behind him told Tom that Drog and Suzy were at their wits end.

"V-V-Varg," he said through chattering teeth. "We n-need to stop. We're freezing."

Varg, who had long since lost much of his body paint, looked an absolute mess like the others. Varg glared at Tom, something unreadable passing through his gaze.

He didn't say anything, but started digging into the slope. One by one the others helped him, until they'd dug out a small shelter inside. Varg stepped back to let Drog and Suzy in first, along with Tom.

"V-Varg!" said Vula. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

Varg was nearly ready to tell her otherwise, but instead replied, "Later. Let's get in first." After letting her inside, he joined her.

It was very tight inside the tiny shelter, and each of them were crouched or pressed into one another. In spite of their irritation with one another, being warm was better than being dead. Each of them shivered violently against one another, not saying anything. Especially Tom, who was crammed against Drog's slimy body and uncomfortably close to Suzy's open mouth.

"Ugh, give that slog a mint," he whispered. "Or something."

"Shut up," said Drog. Suzy growled at him.

Vula was catching the wafts of slog breath, grimacing to herself as it filled up the tiny cave. Varg was smashed against her as well, staring out the window at the dying storm.

When it finally cleared down, everyone had fallen asleep. Varg himself was exhausted, but forced himself out of the cave anyway. Vula heard him and followed. He heaved himself up a little higher to get a better view of how far they had to go. The air was a little thin, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Varg!" she said.

Varg glanced back behind her. "Vula. What are you doing?"

"Ugh, sorry," she replied. "Just wanted to talk. You've been so tight-lipped this whole trip. What's the matter?"

Varg glared at her. "What do you think? We're traveling for miles in this Odd-forsaken mountain range to find a girl we don't even know for sure exists because of something YOU can't control."

Vula's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying this is my fault?!"

"Obviously not. Slaves can't help much of anything can they."

"So you were just WAITING to attack me huh? Why do you HATE me?!"

There was a pregnant silence. Finally Varg spoke.

"I don't hate you. You don't even realize how lucky you are, do you?"

Vula blinked. She hadn't been expecting that at all. "Lucky?"

"You get to get out of this whole childbearing thing. You get to live a life anyone would want. You get to go on adventures, rescue people, ugh." At Vula's confused expression, he huffed. "You're not tied down to some destiny, at least."

Vula blinked. "Destiny? What are you talking about?"

"There's something I'm going to tell you. And I want you to keep quiet about it." He eyed Vula carefully. "I'm a male."

Vula's expression was blank. "And?"

"No," said Varg. "REALLY." He fixed his gaze on her, staring at her until Vula's eyes went wide.

"OH!" She blinked again. "You're one of those drone thingies. So this is what you guys do when there's no queen?

"Ugh, yes," said Varg. "We've never …not… had a queen. So we do what we can and try to get out of life what we can." He started walking higher. "And as soon as the new queen is brought back, my life is over."

Vula lowered her head and sighed.

"You're not the only one," she said quietly. "I'd give anything to have that. I mean… I didn't want to be queen but… if I could've just been part of it, you know? Instead of being "the other one". At least they don't look at you with disappointment."

Vula scuffed her feet in the snow. Her toes hurt through the well-worn moccasins, but she still had questions.

"If you hate it so much, why are you leading us, pushing us on?"

Varg faced her. "Because it's my duty. I have to keep this race alive, even if it means doing some things I really don't want to." He grimaced, but covered it up quickly with a humorless laugh.

Varg sat down in the snow, hanging his feet over the edge of the cliff. He was cold, but he didn't care.

"So we're kind of in the same boat here," she said to him, sitting next to him.

"Yup," said Varg.

"Friends?"

"…Mmmmm." He was about to continue, when a gust of wind nearly knocked him backwards. It was icy, but the smell was unmistakable.

"Oh, Odd, what the heck is that! It smells like fish," Vula asked, grimacing.

It took only a couple of seconds for them to scramble back to the cave where their friends were.

"Guys, guys get up!" Vula cried.

"We made it!" Varg echoed, reaching in and dragging Tom out by his shoulders. Drog clambered out after them, Suzy in tow, and all of them skidded to a stop at the edge. The clouds had moved by then, revealing to them the tiny town they'd been searching for.

All animosity was gone between them, and the five of them danced and celebrated, exhaustion forgotten for a moment. They slowly began the trek down, towards the town, out of the frigid weather and towards the sea.

--

"Can't you work any faster, you lazy runts!" The slig raised his rifle threateningly, and the Mudokon slave operating the strange contraption. Scrap metal went into it. Flat metal sheets came out of it. The Mudokon whimpered.

"Hey, now, Kyle, you remember the rules," The Big Bro slig was suddenly at his side, voice just barely concealing the savage undertone. "No harassin' the slaves. They've been disappearin' all week thanks to that worthless terrorist."

It was true. Abe had been in and out of Rupture Farms all week, snatching slaves and sneaking them out. They were losing numbers, which meant twice the workload for those that remained.

Lurdo was at the top of the food chain. He marched up and down the rows and rows of machines, barking orders and "encouragement" to the workers. He'd pause now and again, rubbing his hands together in delightful, sadistic glee of what was to come.

The Magog Cartel was hard at work, sending emails back and forth to the Vykkers regarding the current queen.

Sam was hardly listening to anything. Everything buzzed in her ears and she weakly reached over to down a jug of her "medication".

"Sir," she heard a shrink addressing a Vykker on the screen, "The female Mudokon is rumored to exist in a town in the southeast."

Sam perked up all at once and listened carefully.

"I know that you idiot," said the Vykker. "The Glukkons are sending a convoy to pick her up! We're waiting for them to return."

Sam trembled with excitement. She was sick, weak, and exhausted, but her eyes became clear. She shut her eyes tight and began channeling her energy. She needed to save it for what was to come.

If by some fluke there was one last queen remaining, she would hope for it. She had to speak with her somehow.


	13. Chapter 13

Jarlonia was named after the region it was located in. Surrounded by mountains and sea, it was said that the only way to find the town was "by accident". The town was rather small, and somewhat behind technologically. It relied heavily off the sea for all its resources. It was also said that the town was once connected by a path carved into the mountains, but that path had long since closed.

It was a melting pot of races. If you could name it, there was probably one somewhere. Even an urban legend spoke of Gabbits playing in the bay at night. In a bait and tackle shop by the docks there was a wall of photographs dedicated to them, most of them claiming to have seen one somewhere. Everyone knew it as "the Gabbit place".

Every time Casey passed the bait shop each morning, she would roll her eyes and continue with on her way to the residential area. Her main transportation was a bicycle with a basket on the back. She climbed hill after hill, powerful legs pumping her on until she stopped at the first house. Reaching into her basket, she pulled a jug of milk out and walked over to the door.

Her fist rapped against the door and she waited. It opened, and had she not been used to the sight, she might've screamed. It was indeed a woman that answered, but she was large, fat, and resembled an earth octopus, only with a humanoid face.

"Oh hey, Casey," she said. "Thanks so much." She took the milk. "Made you somethin'."

"Oh, thanks but.." Casey coughed. "I really shouldn't, I have to go."

"I don't think so, hun, I won't take no for an answer." She grabbed Casey's wrist with one of her arms and led her inside. Behind her, Casey grinned wickedly.

The eight-armed woman led her into the kitchen. "Just put the milk in the fridge dear, and I made some fleech cookies." She put a handful into a bag and placed it into Casey's outstretched hand.

"Thank you," said Casey. "But I really ought to be going. I have some more deliveries to make."

She ducked out the door, put the bag in the basket, and pedaled away. Once safely away from the house, she dug into the bag and scarfed them down while riding. She went to the next house, dropped off the milk, and received a healthy slice of cake as payment. She had to admit, as she ate it, she felt a little guilty. But they needed milk and couldn't get out of the house, so she seemed quite inclined to give it to them. Plus, she got free stuff. So why not?

Once she'd delivered all the milk, Casey rode up to the nearest pub and parked, heading inside. Inside, she noticed that the place was alive with gossip.

"…saw some weirdoes traveling the mountains last night."

"…looked a lot like Casey – I know!"

Casey blinked. "Who looked like me?" she asked, approaching the talking creatures.

"Oh," said one. "Last night John over here spotted some folks traveling the mountains. I wonder if they'll make it in town."

Casey thought a moment. "Looked like me eh? Why would… " She thought really hard. Travelers that looked like her? No one went into the mountains for no reason at all unless they knew the town was there. And why would they waste their effort here unless… ?

"Oh hell," said Casey. She jumped back. "Listen, if anyone asks about me, LIE." She fled out the door, jumped on her bike, and pedaled madly back to her house.

The townsfolk of Jarlonia were rather surprised to see five bedraggled creatures head into town. Several of them stopped to stare at them.

Varg, in the lead, looked the most tired of all, glaring irritably in their direction as he walked. He trudged on, two tired Mudokons, a slig, and a slog in tow. Most of the townsfolk had never seen the Industrials, and so were unthreatened.

They didn't have to walk far to find an inn. It was right across the narrow path that probably functioned as a street. So they knocked on the door.

"You can just go in, you know," said a rather dog-ish creature sitting outside the door. "It's a public building."

"Thank you," said Varg, carefully hiding the sneer in his voice. He opened the door.

The inn was small inside, with a few chairs, household plants, a TV blaring The Larry Flinger show and a simple countertop with shelves behind it. Beside the counter, a door led into a separate hallway. Doors lined it, spaced evenly. The room itself smelled funny, but not unpleasant.

Varg didn't have to tell anyone to sit down. Automatically the tired creatures just sat. Even Suzy, who didn't like sitting or laying down, was virtually collapsed on the carpet.

Varg rang the little bell on the desk and moments later a short, plump creature waddled into the room, hopped up on a stool at the desk, her head just barely clearing the counter. She rather resembled something that was a cross between an umbrella and a meep. She hopped on a singular, springy leg, had a long prehensile tail, and was about the same height as Drog. She seemed aged. All three of her eyes widened as she stared at the group.

"Oh my Gabbits, what's happened to you!? I've never seen you before, did you cross over the mountains?"

Varg nodded. "Please, if you will. We'd like a room. We don't have a lot of moola-"

"Don't worry," said she. "There aren't many able to cross the mountains in one piece. Besides, we rarely get visitors so no one stays in my inn. So please, let me show me to your rooms."

"Wait," Varg replied, but the woman had hopped away and reappeared in the hallway. "We want to pay somehow." He was tired, but he hated getting things for free.

The female smiled. "And you will. But I'll think of something. You're in need of rest." She led the five of them down the hallway. "Now, the room on the left here is the bathroom, so feel free to use it. There's three rooms, so please, enjoy yourselves and stay as long as you need." She disappeared into another doorway and left them alone.

Varg said nothing. He stood there, eyeing the others, who were staring almost lifelessly at the floor.

"Well," he said. "Drog. Take Suzy and clean up. After you're done you can decide amongst yourselves." Varg went into a room and shut the door.

Tom yawned into his paw as Drog and Suzy went into the bathroom without a complaint.

"So Vula," he said, "Wanna share a room?"

"Sure," she said. "But I get the bed by the window." She walked inside and eyed the room. It was small, but had only one bed, to her dismay. There was a window, a small television set, a desk, and a chair. She didn't waste any time in trying out everything.

After they were all cleaned, they found that, to their surprise, the nice innkeeper had left them some clothes. Well, all except for Drog, who swiped a jacket from one of the closets instead; and Suzy, who didn't wear clothes. They admired them for a moment, but all of them were far too tired to explore any further. The five of them went into their respective rooms and slept.

When Vula awoke she thought she'd only fallen asleep for a few minutes. She was no longer tired, although her body was complaining furiously and she hurried to the bathroom to take care of something. When all was said and done she studied herself in the mirror. Her reflection was virtually the same, but much cleaner than she'd ever known it to be. She never really thought about her appearance. Was she pretty? Was she ugly? Did it matter?

Curious, she slipped into the clothing that had been laid out for her. It was strange; she'd never worn anything as feminine as this before, and as she put it on she was rather pleased. Sure, it was a little loose, but she felt positively girlish. It was a simple yellow dress, cut off at the knees, with a white belt and thin straps for sleeves. She twirled about in it, leaving the bathroom and heading down the hall and to the kitchen. Something smelled delicious.

As Vula peered around into the room she spotted the lady from before. She was standing on a wheeled stool, moving this way and that way as she chopped up various vegetables into a bowl. She seemed to be using her tail as a brace, and was scooting herself across the floor with it.

She hadn't even turned around and Vula heard her speak.

"My, my, I was waiting for someone to get up. You slept for over a day!" She wheeled herself to the sink, washed her hands, and rolled towards the refrigerator. "Be a good girl and help me with supper, won't you? I'm making vegetable soup and I think you'll like it."

Mudokons are naturally helpful (which is part of the reason they made good slaves) and Vula was no exception. She washed her hands and as she passed the refrigerator a jar of some kind of sauce was thrust into her hands.

"Put that on the counter dear and open the cabinet above the bowl. I have such a hard time reaching it. My Casey would do it for me, but she's out running errands."

Vula opened the cabinet.

"Okay," said Vula, "I see – " she took a quick sniff – "Seasoning jars. Which ones you want."

"Oregano, rosemary, and scrabano," came the reply.

Vula reached in and grabbed the first two, but she had to hunt for the third.

"What's scrabano?" she asked.

"It's an seasoning made from scrab toes. It's hard to acquire out here, but it doesn't harm the scrab. It's said they put the scrab to sleep and take the fileed shavings and get out of there. It grows back quickly. It's got a lot of nutrients which is something I think you five need."

Vula studied it. Well, she pondered. It was odd, but what wasn't around here.

"So what are your names?"

"I'm Vula, the slig is Drog, the slog is Suzy, and the Mudokons are Varg and Tom, respectively," said Vula. "You?"

"Call me Anita." Anita rolled back to Vula and began adding the sauce and seasonings. "It's very lovely to meet you. Now please, get my big pot from under the cabinet by the stove and fill it with water. That's a good girl. Now add a cup of powder in the jar beside it and turn the stove on high please."

Vula did as she was told.

"Good, now wake up the others and have them get dressed."


	14. Chapter 14

Vula learned something special about Varg that day: Never startle him awake.

It had started out well enough. Vula was more or less tricked into it by Tom and urged to do it by Drog. She was fine enough with it. She managed to get the door open and halfway through the room before she could get a good look at him. Vula then saw a side of him that not many were privileged to. He was sprawled out on his bed, making a total mess of the covers, most of them wadded and here and there.

His mouth was wide open and he was snoring very quietly, body twisted awkwardly and a string of drool dribbled lazily from the side of his mouth before creating a wet spot next to his head. The scene was so comical that Vula gave herself away by clapping her hands over her mouth – in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

Varg's response was so immediate that Vula had no time to react. The other Mudokon launched himself off the bed and had her pressed against the wall in an instant, right fist aimed at her face – it would've been a bit more efficient had he had his crossbow. But Varg recognized her and stepped back, glowering at her.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Vula started gesturing towards her mouth. "You – you got a… a.."

Varg reached up and swiped what was left of his drool away.

"Uh. Dinner's ready." And Vula slipped quickly out the door, nearly tripped going through the hallway, and met the others in another room – a dining room. All of them were staring at her. "Ahaha! Don't make me do that again!"

Varg came down moments later, dressed in the pants and shirt that had been laid out for him. He was no longer painted or decorated. He looked perfectly normal. Each of them were seated, but Anita made Vula serve everyone. And she did so, grudgingly. Everyone was staring at one another in a mixture of confusion, wondering if it was really the other person they were looking at.

Once everyone was seated, Anita turned to Varg.

"So my dear, what brings you all the way across the mountains? I know you couldn't have just started wandering."

Varg politely sipped his soup and replied, "We're looking for someone."

"Oooh," Anita grinned, "I thought so. Who are you looking for?"

Vula interjected quickly, glaring at Varg. "We don't know her name but she's like us. We need to bring her back becau—"

"Oh, I always new that Casey had a swell future." Anita giggled. "She'll be around soon enough. So what's going on that needs my little Casey's attendance?"

Everyone fell into an awkward silence. Drog, who wasn't really used to it all, decided it was his turn to speak.

"Long story short, their queen's dying and yer female's the only one left that can have kids. We had Vula here but she can't do it 'cuz-"

Suddenly Vula rose. "I need to be excused." She disappeared down the hall and the others heard a door shut quietly.

The silence became awkward. Drog blinked, looking at the others, who, save for Anita, were eyeing him almost disdainfully.

"What'd I say?" he asked. "I just said she can't have kids."

Anita frowned. "Ever notice how when you're punched in the shoulder it doesn't hurt so bad… but the bee's sting hurts more?"

"Yeah, I always wondered why th-"

When Alice left as well, Varg and Tom kept staring. Drog began to feel uncomfortable, until the slig winced and slapped himself in the face.

"Vula," Alice said as she knocked on the door. "Dear, please open the door."

"Just come in," came the disembodied voice behind the door.

Alice opened it quietly and found Vula sitting quietly at her bed, staring towards the window.

"Listen, Vula, I understand what you're going through."

"You can't save your own race because of something you can't control?" Vula sneered. She wasn't crying, so much as she was just irritated.

"Well no," said Alice, "But I can't have children either. When I found little Casey I was the only one that wanted to take her in. I tried for so many years but … Vula. You are doing a great service to your race anyway. I don't know what your people are but – you're leading her back to your home. That's as good as any. Without you she'd never even know who she was."

"Tch," said Vula, "Varg is. Varg's the one leading the whole thing.. heh."

"So why the sudden sadness?"

"I don't know. I just kind of

Vula sighed. "I don't really want to be queen but I would've done it. I've never felt complete with anyone… but I thought being queen might change that. Because I would've been connected with everyone."

Alice patted the taller Mudokon's shoulder.

"Well my dear, remember that each of us has a destiny. I had no idea mine was to raise the future queen of a dying race. Sometimes it's not going to be what you think it should've been." She smiled. "I promise you, Vula, you'll be just fine."

--

Casey was starving and out of breath by the time the sun set. She was eager to head home and get some grub. As she crept by the one of the windows of Anita's in, he halted and stared in the window, eyes wide. The familiar shape of her species – whatever she was – was there, next to Anita.

Quickly, she ducked down under the window.

"Ugh, great," she hissed. "Guess I'mma stay out all night then." Casey crept away quietly before anyone saw her.

--

"Sir!" said the slig known as Fred to Molluck the Glukkon over the intercom. "Sir, the ship is ready. Would you like to come and see 'er?"

Molluck grinned and took another puff of his cigar. "Right then, I'll be down in a minute."

Sure enough, he was down in the bay – in about ten minutes. The sligs escorting him were too terrified of him to show their displeasure. Glukkons walked much too slowly. Molluck was never late. Everyone else was just early.

Fred the slig gestured to the great ship. "So how's she look?"

The ship was a decent size. It couldn't have held hundreds of sligs – but it was just right for a nice-sized platoon to fill it and still have enough room to accommodate the female. Molluck nodded.

"It'll work," he said. "Good, good. Now, have you got the platoon listed yet?"

"Not yet," said Fred. "General Dripik has mentioned that he'll have the list in a few more days – he's not finished drilling the uh, "freshies"."

Molluck pondered the word 'freshies'. He'd heard it, and knew what it meant, but it was still an odd word to him. He frowned.

"Tell Dripik I want that list in three days. Oh, and Fred – you, Drog, and Lurdo are going to be my main officers. Ya better bring back that queen – I don't want nothin' unfortunate to happen to ya."

At Molluck's grin, Fred gulped. "I'll report it to General Dripik right away sir!"

--

"Run faster ya slimy worthless insects!" Dripik bellowed into the megaphone a slig was holding in front of him.

Some distance before him, several sligs were sprinting back and forth, armed with consumer goods weapons and packs slung onto their backs, panting heavily as they tried to outrun one another.

"Winner gets ta sleep in an extra half hour – and losers get to have a personal re-evaluation by me – Ge…"

"General Dripik!" hissed the slig.

"General Dripik!" Dripik wanted to smack himself but when you walk with your hands in a tightly bound suit, it's kind of impossible. It wasn't like his legs worked anyway.

The sligs were none the less intimidated. They tried forcing themselves to move faster.

The slig next to him tuned into a message through his headphones.

"Sir," he said. "Gettin' news from da boss. Says he's got the ship done and the officers picked – just waitin' on you. You got three days to have 'em ready."

Dripik nodded. "Tell 'em I said I'll have 'em ready by day three at zero eight hundred. They'll be right next to da ship."

"Very well." The slig radioed in his message.

Dripik grinned. Now things were going to be most difficult for his trainees. He could hardly wait.

--

During the night the five of them watched the television in the main room or took short naps so they wouldn't ruin their sleeping pattern. They waited up mainly for the girl Casey to come home, but she didn't show.

When sunrise came Varg led them out on a search. Unfortunately, Drog, to his dismay, wasn't allowed to travel alone. He and Suzy stuck with Vula mostly, exploring one section of town.

But it was Varg that caught sight of the bicycle Alice had described to them. He and Tom inspected it and went inside the building it was parked in front of.

The place resembled a tavern of sorts.

"Hey, you guys seen a girl that looks like us anywhere?" asked Tom.

The people in the tavern exchanged glances, shrugged, and went back to talking. Tom rolled his eyes, but Varg spotted someone leave through the back door.

"Aha!" he said,. "Come on!" He grabbed Tom's wrist and dragged him back towards the back door. Sure enough, they spotted her sprinting around the corner and up the hill. "Let's go!"

The two of them chased after her, following her around the building and into a network of back alleyways.

"Gah, if only we had Suzy!" Tom complained. "Wait – I think I saw her!"

They rounded the corner and onto the street by the bay, where they spotted her looking at them and sprinting up the hill and into another alley. When they reached the place where she'd turned they ran into Vula and Drog.

"Did you see her!?" Vula asked.

"Yeah!" Varg said. "Get that's slog's nose after her!"

Suzy went to work sniffing, and soon they were on her trail.

Casey stopped to catch her breath near a general store. When she heard Suzy's barking, she cursed to herself and ran inside, ignoring the greeting of the owner, and apologizing quickly as she ran out the back way.

But Suzy was not stupid. She knew there were two doors and if Casey went in one, she would surely go out the other. And when Casey opened the back door she found herself face to face with Suzy's snarling mug.

"Ugh.. fine, you got me," she said, raising her hands up.


	15. Chapter 15

"So why were you running?" asked Varg once they'd gotten settled at Alice's. Once again, Vula was forced to bring them all tea. Her mood had still darkened considerably.

Casey rolled her eyes. "I knew this was going to happen one day," she replied. "I've read too many stories. That and I just kind of figured I was important somehow."

Varg frowned. "So are you going to come with us then?"

"I don't even know what's going on!" said Casey.

Varg spoke again. "We are Mudokons. Our race is dying. Our only queen is currently being held in a facility where she is forced to lay eggs for industrial profit. She's coming close to death and when she dies we're through. You're the only one that can be our next queen."

Casey eyed Vula. "She's a girl isn't she? Or is she a guy dressed up like one?"

Vula glared daggers at Casey.

"I'mma girl!" she said. "I just… can't do it."

"Right," said Casey. "So do I have a choice in the matter?"

Everyone exchanged glances.

"Of course," said Varg. "But we'd rather have you come with us."

"Let me think about it," said Casey. "How's a week sound?"

"That's fine. In five days."

Alice beamed widely. "Oh wonderful. Vula – would you please go get started with the dishes for me?"

Vula disappeared into the kitchen, frowning as she got to work preparing to wash the teacups.

Drog found his way into the kitchen, lacking his Blunderbuss, and would've started shuffling his feet had he had real legs.

"Hey uh.."

Vula glanced back over at him. "Huh?"

"I'm not good at this," he said quickly, "But I kinda said something before that… wasn't … wasn't nice. And yeah.."

Vula shook her head quickly.

"Wasn't your fault. Heh. I was the one that was too sensitive." She rinsed a cup and continued, "Besides. We all have a destiny and well, I may not be able to do what I thought I should've, but I'm sure there's something I could do." She didn't sound very convinced in her own words, but Drog wasn't about to question why.

"Yeah.." Drog coughed. "Heh. I'm gonna go now." He backed out of the room and headed elsewhere.

Vula blinked, and shook her head.

And so the deal was made. The next three days were spent – at least to the Five, in luxury. There was no horrible traveling, no need to constantly be on guard, nothing trying to kill them. It was like a vacation. A vacation each of them knew would soon come to an end.

Vula spent much of her time with Suzy, spoiling the little slog and taking her on walks. The slog had grown a bit since they had first met, and was almost her full adult size - which was considerably bigger than the average male slog. The locals were scared of her at first, but Suzy paid them no mind. Now, had Drog been there, and ordered her to attack someone, the victim would've gone down in a heartbeat.

Varg spent a lot of time either by himself or with Tom, and when Tom was alone he checked the local library to see what information the town had.

Drog was either with Casey or Vula, or alone. He loved exploring things, and although he was greeted with nervous stares, he ignored them and decided he'd check out the pier. It was lined with several ships, mostly fishing ships, and there were a good six docks spanning across several hundred yards.

A little one caught his eye. It was the longest dock, but very narrow and heavily lined with boxes – save for the last fifteen feet. It looked very old, but he stepped on it anyway. Sligs are naturally afraid of deep water while wearing pants – it weighs them down heavily. Drog was no exception – every step was as though he were walking on thin ice.

He finally stopped only ten feet onto it, instincts pulling him back.

"I'd be careful out there," said a voice. Drog peered over to see an old creature not unlike a Mudokon. "That dock's one of our oldest... thing's so weak. I doubt it'll stand another storm, haha."

Drog was wise and stayed away from the dock.

Casey invited the Five to go camping up in the foothills. The five were loathe to return to those terrible mountains, but they found that it was rather nice, if not a little chilly, and the night, although cloudy, was crisp and lovely and they got a clear view of the ocean.

"This place isn't so bad," said Casey that evening, "But I confess I don't really like it here."

Vula inhaled. The air smelled heavily of fish, but it wasn't a bad smell.

"Why? You've never lived in captivity I expect."

Casey eyed her. The relationship between the two of them was only just stable, held together only by maturity and necessity.

"Actually," said Casey, "I have. This place… it's a prison if you're not a sailor or a mountaineer. You're the first with the guts to cross over here in years. You have got to have something on your side."

Drog shivered in spite of his coat and studied the horizon line blandly. He frowned, blinking, tilting his head.

"Somethin' ain't right," he said. "The Raisin said they'd be after us but we ain't seen 'em since that time on the way to see 'im."

Varg nodded. "We'll keep a lookout. If we're lucky, we won't run into them again until we're out of here. That way…" he glanced over at Casey, "They won't know about this place and it'll remain untouched."

"Ha, thanks," said Casey, smiling at Varg.

It sent a slight ripple of jealousy through Vula, but she ignored it and curled up in her sleeping bag.

Drog curled up as well, Suzy sleeping in between himself and Vula, and snoozed. He woke up very early, to Suzy's quite whimpering. It was still dark, but a thin line of light marked the coming dawn. Above that, black clouds were rolling in, marking also the coming storm.

"What?" he hissed. Suzy's body was pointed out towards the ocean. Drog vividly remembered the last time she'd acted up, and his heart began to pound. He flipped the switch by the visor on his mask, and stared.

There was only one of them, but he didn't need to zoom in any farther to know what it was.

"Oh. Oh hell. Psst. Vula." He reached over and gently nudged her with his hand. "Vula, wake up!"

Vula blinked heavily and looked over at him. "Wha?"

"Vula, they're HERE."

"They?"

Finally Drog spazzed. "Guys get up! The Industrials are here! They're on a ship! Let's go NOW!"

All at once everyone was up.

"Where are they!?" Varg snarled.

"Out there! They're gonna take her away if we don't get outta here NOW!"

Varg shook his head.

"No… We need to stop them now – once and for all – or they'll just keep coming," said Varg.

Casey bit her lip. "Well how?"

"You're nuts!" Drog cried. "If they know we're here they'll have dozens of 'em out here! We'll never make it!"

Varg challenged him openly. "Well we have to try. Come on! Let's get Casey to a hiding place!"


	16. Chapter 16

By the time they got to town, rain had broken out and the sun was probably half visible on the horizon. According to Drog, the ship hadn't moved. If they were lucky, the storm would keep them off shore until they could find a place to put Casey.

When they reached the inn, Alice was still asleep. But she was roughly roused and already she was packing her bags.

"Where are we going?" Casey asked.

"Not we! You!"

"Me?"

"Yes. You're going to head as far inland as possible. Wait until they leave before you return, you hear me?" Alice commanded her.

Vula frowned and took a step back.

"We need to make a plan!" she said quickly.

"Alice," said Varg, "Can you get everyone away from the docks?"

"Of course!" said Alice. "I'll do that right away."

Soon, the only ones near the docks were the Five. Varg was fully painted, armed with his freshly-polished crossbow; Tom had no weapons, but he didn't need any. Vula, Drog, and Suzy were close together, attempting to keep Suzy calm. The she-slog looked absolutely terrified.

"Alright," said Tom as they made their way behind a building in view of the docks. "More than likely their squad is bigger than before. I'd say they have some real officers out here… especially if they know where we live. Now Drog, do you remember any officers from where you were?"

Drog thought. "Well," he said. "I remember Grob – he's the leader of the first squad we picked out, and I don't know if he's still alive. Then I remember this big bro slig… massive bastard. Thought he was going to kill me the first time we met." He shivered. "Other'n'at."

Eventually, as the storm picked up, Drog made his way to the top of one of the buildings with Tom. The ships had moved in closer.

"Thought so," said Tom, "They're gonna come ashore just before the storm hits. Must not be that bad of a storm."

Drog hissed. "…They've got Dripik!? Oh we're dead." Drog began moving back and forth in a panic.

Tom gulped.

"We're so dead!"

"Hush!" Tom growled. "Let's get down before we're spotted!"

--

"Sir!" Grob announced. "We've spotted 'em. They're right there too, and they might even have the girl." Grob peered through his binoculars.

General Dripik did not mind the rain, but only because there was another slig next to him holding a large umbrella over his head. He thought carefully.

"Good, good. Haha. Let's go ashore, get that female, and get 'er back."

Grob radioed in the order and the ship began to approach the dock.

"When ya get ashore, fire at will! But don't touch the girl! Got it?"

"Sir!" replied Grob.

"Uh, boss, how do you tell if it's a girl?"

--

Drog gulped. "Here they come."

Vula bit her lip again. She looked at the others.

"Guys," she said. "What if I went in her stead?"

The others gave her a strange look.

"Seriously. They're not gonna know it's me."

Everyone was silent for a moment. But Tom snapped his fingers.

"That gives me an idea! Vula, remember how Casey was eluding us earlier in the week?"

"Yeah."

"You know what to do."

Vula nodded. "Right.. got it."

As the ship approached, the five of them stood there until it drew close to one of the docks.

"A'right, you traitors!" Dripik's voice was recognizable from the loudspeaker. "Drop off the girl and no one gets hurt. Refuse and we'll kill you all when you stand!"

Suzy whimpered. Sligs lined the starboard side of the ship, firearms at the ready. No one would miss.

"These sligs are my best shots!" Dripik continued. "Go ahead. Send 'er up." Oh how thankful he was that he had absolute control of his mind.

Glances were exchanged. It seemed they had fallen for it. Trembling, Vula took a step forward.

"Commere!" said a massive slig as he lowered a gangplank to the dock.

"That's him!" hissed Drog. "That's Lurdo."

Suddenly Varg shouted. "Scatter!"

All five of them split, Vula the last to go. One of the sligs fired and Grob knocked him away with his Blunderbuss.

"You idiot, you'll hit her!"

Dripik snarled. "Lurdo! Go get 'er! Grob, take Fred and the first platoon and corner the rest! DO IT!"

All at once sligs poured out of the ship and the Five found themselves chased. In a torrent of rain, it was difficult to see and all of them scrambled to find a hiding place in the shadows.

Drog took Suzy and went to go find Vula, who would need them the most. If Lurdo found her, there was no way she'd get back in one piece. Especially when they found out. He realized he had no qualms about helping these Muds now - even though he could've gone back. It was probably too late to reclaim his old post anyway.

He heard Lurdo before he saw him – the gigantic slig was thrashing about, throwing trash cans about, or whatever he could reach.

"Didn't take me long at all did it!?" Lurdo roared. "Never does - why keep runnin'?"

He'd found her. He sounded like he was just over in the next alleyway, so Drog ran around to face him. What he found instead was Lurdo's back to him, and beyond that, he could scarcely see Vula, who was pressed against the opposite wall.

"Hold still, girlie – hope I don't squeeze too h-"

"HEY!" Drog found that his fear, while still ever present, was overwhelmed by his need to defend Vula. "Big nose!"

Lurdo stopped, then turned to fully face the much smaller Drog. Drog gulped. Lurdo was even larger than he remembered. Not only that, he was fully armored, equipped with a strange device on his left arm and blessed with four large, long legs instead of two.

"Wha… I remember you. You're that little slig from the barracks." Lurdo grinned wickedly. "You've grown a bit. Still too small!" Lurdo picked up a trash can and hurled it at Drog, who was forced to sprint out of the way, bracing himself for Lurdo's bellowing laughter.

Drog summoned his courage and returned. "Come on, tiny! Scared to come out and face me?"

"I can see you shaking, sliglet! Scared to come in here and face ME?"

Drog shook his head. "Took so many steroids you're crushing your brain! Sure that's not FAT?"

Lurdo growled. "Watch it, or I'll just come on out there and crush you!"

"Do it then!" Drog shivered in the rain, but stood where he was nonetheless. He was terrified beyond all reason. Suzy was also terrified, but she was snarling, telling him simply that she would obey any order given to her – even taking the much larger slig head on. It was probably the most terrible snarl she'd ever given. "…You coward!"

Not that he should talk.

Lurdo didn't need another warning. He took the bait and charged. Drog had been confident that big bro sligs were relatively slow. But he hadn't expected Lurdo to be upon him in an instant, gargantuan fist colliding with his smaller body and sending him hurtling into a bunch of trash on the other side of the street.

He coughed, shoulder wrenched. Suzy had lunged for Lurdo and feebly attempted to bite into the metal. Instead her teeth slid off the slig's armor, and Lurdo laughed before knocking her, too, into the road. There was a resounding crack and the slog didn't get up, crumpled in a lifeless heap.

Drog managed to rouse himself from being stunned and managed to get out of the way as Lurdo lunged for him again. He panted heavily, hissing at the pain in his shoulder and the many cuts and bruises he'd just acquired. His left leg was unusually stiff, and he cursed the lack of waterproofing in his pants.

At least Vula was safe. Drog stared at Lurdo, who was lumbering his way, rather enraged, knocking things about and creating such a racket. There had to be a way to stop him. His eyes quickly scanned the docks. It was then that his eyes spotted the old rickety dock at the far end of the bay. It was far enough away from Dripik's ship to prevent any damage from them.

"I'd be careful out there," echoed the voice in his head. "That dock's one of our oldest... thing's so weak. I doubt it'll stand another storm, haha."

And then Drog knew what he had to do.

"Want some more, sliglet?!" Lurdo snarled, voice half-mad with laughter.

"Psh," said Drog. "That didn't even tickle. How fast can you run?"

In spite of his leg, Drog took off, with Lurdo hot on his heels.

"Didn't they tell ya, sliglet?" Lurdo roared behind him. "I'm testing out a lighter model of armor!"

Drog panted, clutching his weapon tightly and kept his eyes focused on the pier. Just a little farther, just a little farther, he kept telling himself.

On the ship, Dripik studied the pair of figures.

"What on Odd is that idiot doin'!?" he growled.

"Should we fire, sir?" a new squad leader asked.

"It's too far to guarantee a good shot," said Dripik. "You guys got terrible vision. We'll have to see if that buffoon can come to his senses."

Then Dripik's mind went blank.

--

Drog felt Lurdo closing in on him, but the dock was right there. In a brave move he dove past the dock, then grabbed hold of a pole sticking out from the road and slung himself back around and onto the narrow path. Lurdo, as he predicted, slid past him with a grunt.

Drog didn't stop running. At the end of the dock, he saw where someone had left one of the fishing ships. Out beyond it there hung a thick rope where the fishing net should've been. It was suspended on a metal pulley. Drog didn't know how, but he had to get up there somewhere. Behind him, Lurdo was coming closer.

Beneath his legs the wood creaked heavily, and Drog grimaced as he unhitched his pants and began the slow climb up a pile of boxes. He could, if he used all his strength, make the jump to the rope before Lurdo could get to him. Once he reached the top, he shivered at the height and the cold and the terrifying, swirling water.

"Whazzamatter? Can't swim?" Lurdo howled. "Let me show you how!"

Lurdo's huge fist connected with the boxes and sent Drog hurtling forward towards the water. He managed to catch himself on the very end of the rope and hung on for dear life. It was now or never.

"Whazzamatter?" sneered Drog, panting. "Can't reach?"

Lurdo felt the groan of the wood beneath his feet but ignored it.

Dripik, witnessing this, widened his single eye and bared his teeth.

"That idiot's going to get himself killed! Get me the megaphone this instant! I don't care about the rain!"

The slig dropped the umbrella and hurried to fetch it. Once he returned it, he held it up to Dripik and Dripik bellowed, "YOU IDIOT. GET AWAY FROM THERE! IT'S A TRAP!"

Dripik's voice was lost in the wind and rain. Said wind billowed back and forth and sent Drog every which way. He climbed higher, biting back the pain in his shoulder, and kept going up.

Lurdo was growing frustrated. He was fighting desperately to control his rage.

"USE YOUR COMBAT DE--"

For a moment, Lurdo caught himself. He blinked, but it went unseen through his visor as he stared at the shivering, pantsless Drog. His eyes slithered down to the combat device on his wrist, and he pushed a button, taking a step forward.

It was that step that ended it all for him. The wood gave instantly and Lurdo simply fell into it with a great splash. Drog didn't move. He stared at the water dumbly.

Suddenly something shot out of the water and sliced through part of the rope. Drog yelped as his weight tore the rest of the rope and he went plummeting into the sea.

Vula skidded to a halt at the edge of the breakage.

"Drog!" she shouted. "Drog!" She peered down into the water, but the only thing that greeted her was murky blackness.

Dripik grinned. "Oh look! There she is. And here come the others. Perfect."

Sure enough, Vula found herself roughly apprehended by three sligs. She struggled, but the familiar blow of a rifle across her temple changed her mind, and limply, she allowed herself to be dragged away. One of the sligs had a scar on the right side of his mask.

"You look awful familiar," he said quickly. "Ah well. Promotion, promotion, promotion!"

Varg stopped, panting. The sligs chasing him had suddenly vanished. Nearby, Tom also stopped, and the two found one another.

"Tom," panted Varg. "Where's Vula and Drog?"

"I dunno. I didn't see 'em." He stooped over for a moment to catch his breath, but stood up again.

"We gotta go find 'em!" Varg headed off for the docks, and found two sligs dragging her up the gangplank. Drog and Suzy were nowhere to be found.

Tom started to head out there, but Varg grabbed him quickly and held him still.

"We have to form a plan!" he hissed. "We go out there and they'll shoot us DEAD."

Varg turned around, sensing something from behind. To his surprise, it was Casey, drenched with rain.

"What are you doing here?"

Casey growled. "As much as I don't like it, I saw what Vula did. And I owe her for that."

Tom was about to say something, but Varg silenced him.

"Alright," he said, fighting a smirk. "How are we going to get to her?"

They waited until the ship pulled away from the shore before making their move.


	17. Chapter 17

Dripik was laughing. He was laughing so maniacally in fact that it unnerved the other sligs. Normally they would've found their triumph funny, but Dripik was just overdoing it.

Grob yawned as he stepped out of the rain.

"Well that was simple. And we only lost one guy," he said to Fred.

Fred nodded. "Yeah.. That Lurdo had it comin' anyway. Too bad he let them steroids get to his head." Fred toweled himself off and tossed his towel to Grob.

In another room, Vula was chained to a pole with her hands behind her back. She wasn't moving much, terrified into silence – and intimidating by the expansive size of General Dripik. She was also exhausted.

"So, you got a name?" Dripik asked. His words were laced with malice and some strange accent.

Vula thought up a lie. "Lira, sir," she said quietly.

"Mmm, Lira. You know me as General D.. General… "

"Dripik, sir," said Vula.

"Oh, yes, yes, thank you. Dripik. I suppose my name's famous in your parts?"

"I've heard stories." Keep quiet Vula. Play the innocent girl.

So far, Dripik hadn't tried anything hostile towards her. He was apparently in a good mood, so Vula didn't try anything. Instead, she shut her eyes, and prayed silently that she wouldn't be found out before they reached Rupture Farms.

"Too bad," said Dripik idly, "I can't keep you at the Slig Barracks. My sligs sure do love the target practice."

Vula's eyes went wide. Dripik began laughing.

--

"I found Suzy!" Tom shouted. He sprinted over to the slog, who was lying on her side in the street, panting, not moving.

Varg knelt by the slog and carefully placed a hand on her side. The slog snarled and winced.

"She's got a lot of broken bones," he said quietly. "We'll have to leave her behind. Let's get her up and to Alice's place."

The three of them managed to get the limp slog into their collective arms.

"But what about Drog?" Casey asked, frowning.

Varg fell silent.

"He did his duty," he said at length. "Let's go."

They had just made it to Alice's door and got inside when there was a knock just behind them. Upon setting Suzy on the couch, Varg opened it carefully. And there was Drog. The slig looked only half alive, but Varg, in spite of Drog's sliminess, managed to pick up the slig and bring him to the couch as well.

"Oh... Suzy," he said weakly. The slog's tongue lapped at his hand.

Alice immediately went to work, enlisting Casey's help in helping the slog and slig.

"Varg," Drog said slowly upon being fed broth.

"Huh?"

"I'm going with ya."

Varg frowned. "Oh no you're not."

"Wanna bet? It was my fault she got kidnapped, so I'm goin' with ya. I'm fine." He pushed himself up a little. "Just got too much water… I can get some pants on the ship. I'm going with you." Drog's stare was even with Varg's in spite of the size difference.

Varg sighed. "Fine. But your slog is staying." Drog nodded. "Will you be ready in an hour?"

"Oh, by the way," said Alice. "Fishing boats aren't the only vehicles we have. Wanna see the speedboats?"

--

They took only one speedboat. It was faster that way. The four of them piled in and Varg, following Alice's instructions, pulled the cord on the motor and it was revved up.

"What do we do once we get close?" Casey asked.

"Infiltration, baby!" Drog shouted gleefully. His energy seemed to have returned, but he still seemed quite angry. He was at the bow of the small motorboat, the wind whipping his tentacles out of his face. His gaze did not falter.

Varg, Casey, and Tom eyed one another.

"Casey," Varg said quickly. "Take this." He handed Casey a long firebrand he'd found in the bottom of the boat. "You'll need it."

Fortunately for them, the sligs were all inside when they reached the ship. Using a rope they'd loaded into the boat, Varg made a lasso and managed to hook it around something that protruded from the side.

"How'd you learn that?" Casey whispered.

Varg half-smirked. "Let's just say I spent some time out West." He tugged the rope twice to make sure it was stable. "Wanna go first?"

Casey shook her head. "Uh, no. I'll go last, thanks."

"Actually," said Drog, "I am. Don't worry, I'm a nice guy." He coughed into his hand. "Besides, I gotta find some pants."

They climbed up the side of the rope. Drog could feel the biting pain of his shoulder as he climbed, but he was a natural climber and he could deal with it long enough for him to get a weapon. Once they climbed over the side of the ship, they actually spotted a slig half-sleeping in the rain.

Drog just grinned. Varg held out his hand to Casey in a gesture, and Casey crept up on him and in one deft movement struck him over the head with the brand. Drog observed, finding that, to his surprise, he'd overcome his original fear of striking anyone. Maybe he'd been younger then.

The slig grunted and slipped into unconsciousness. Drog crawled over, took off the slig's pants, and climbed into them.

"Oh yeah," he whispered, giving a thumbs up. He swiped the slig's Blunderbuss and moved ahead, instinctively taking the leadership role as he peered inside the bowels of the ship.

There were sligs – at least twenty of them, all gathered in the single room. He backed out again.

"We need to distract the sligs somehow. I think I know where they're holding Vula," said Varg.

Casey glanced left, then right, "I can do voice imitations! Watch this!" She coughed quietly, then spoke again, voice rather similar (but still unlike) a slig. "Wazzup?"

Varg grinned. "Close enough. Alright, let's do this." He whispered instructions into Tom and Casey's ears, then nodded at Drog.

Varg and Tom went on either side of the opening. Casey grinned and began imitated the slig voice to it. However, she'd incorporated a bit of a feminine twist into it.

"Yoohoo!" she said almost shrilly, pushing Drog forward so that one of his legs stuck out from behind the door. Drog kept shaking his head, insisting silently that this sort of distraction would not work.

The sligs nearest the door blinked, then three of them stepped outside. Instantly they were taken out by the others and Drog boldly stepped inside.

"Man," he said. "Sure is raining out there."

"What was that?" one of them asked, not bothering to ask his name.

Drog shrugged. "I dunno. The others went to go check it out." He made his way to the back while Tom, Casey, and Varg split up and, very stealthily, managed to avoid the eyes of the sligs.

Varg was about to keep going when he spotted an alarm mechanism against the wall. He flipped it and ducked behind a crate. Red lights flashed. The others hid as the sligs began to erupt in a panic, as was common for them.

General Dripik stepped through the automatic door.

"What in HELL is going on?!" he roared. Drog crept behind him as he stepped outside.

Vula was still chained, largely unharmed, but perked up when Drog entered. She squinted her eyes a little.

"Yeah, it's me," he said quickly. "Come on, we gotta get you outta here."

As he approached the Mudokon, Vula grinned. "Wasn't this how we first met?"

Drog nodded. "Uh-huh." He stared at the handcuffs holding her. "Where are the keys?"

"You didn't get the keys?!"

"Who's holding 'em?!"

"I don't know, some slig!"

Drog rolled his eyes, ready to shoot the handcuffs off, when none other than Grob burst through the door, shutting it behind him.

"What the?!" he growled, readying his weapon.

Drog jumped in front of Vula, doing the same. It was a stalemate for some time.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the little traitor," he said.

"Name's Drog. We've actually all met," came Drog's acidic reply.

Grob blinked. "Wha? Wait… You were that little slig that didn't wanna hit that one Mud, weren't you?" At Drog's nod, he cackled. "You've grown, haven't ya? Too bad you've grown the wrong way."

Then something dawned on Grob.

"… Wait a sec. Is this the one that tried to escape before?"

Vula grinned weakly. "Yup yup!"

"Wha… we've got the wrong… you're a girl? Wait! You switched me out didn't ya?!" Grob cocked his Blunderbuss. Drog did the same.

"Ya don't have to do this, little Drog," Grob said eventually. "All I have to do is open up this door and your entire group o' friends'll be dead. So make your choice. Turn over the real female or I'll shoot you both where you stand."

Drog didn't tremble this time. He didn't hesitate, and he didn't give Grob a second. He fired a burst of three at Grob, and while two missed, one grazed his side before he could move.

Vula bit her lip. "Listen! Help us!" she said. "Let's overthrow Dripik and we'll never have to worry about any of this again!"

Grob thought a second, holding his injured side and hiding behind his gun.

"Well… I kinda like the extra profit!" He opened the door.

"GROB GET OUT HERE AND SHOOT THESE INTRUDERS!"

Grob winced at Dripik's voice and said, "Oh well, duty calls. I'll deal with you later!"

Suddenly Drog jumped him, wrapping his arms around the other slig's midsection, sending them both tumbling to the ground. In an attempt to escape, Grob raised his elbow and sent it crashing down upon the smaller slig's head. Drog yelped and his head spun, but he groped about for the keys and yanked his other arm out from under him.

Casey cackled as she approached the helm. There was a slig there, yawning into a hand. He carried no weapon. Fortunately, he had his back to her, so she was less nervous. She repeated the process she'd followed with the first slig she'd whacked, and she found they went down rather easily if you could surprise them. She dragged his unconscious body over to one corner and cackled.

"Time to turn this puppy around!" She cried, slapping the helm and spinning it in one direction.

The ship heaved and rolled, leaning and turning to the left. The sligs began to panic with the ship moving about and Dripik began barking orders.

"Someone get up there and steer this ship! Get the intruders! KILL 'EM!"

Tom was nearly cornered, but when he spotted a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, he grabbed it and began shooting his pursuers with water. Apparently, water was somehow cheaper on a ship. The sligs were halted and Tom sprinted away before they could shoot him.

Varg occupied his time by shooting – but he was careful about it. Twice he attempted to aim for General Dripik, and twice, he missed. Eventually he gave up and went back to shooting the panicking sligs.

Eventually Fred encircled the remaining sligs and reorganized them. The Mudokons ducked down into hiding.

"A'right!" Fred growled. "Everyone start looking for the intruders. Catch 'em and shoot 'em on sight!"

Dripik ducked his head inside the room with Vula to avoid anymore chaos. What he found was an empty room and Grob sitting in the middle of the room, a pair of damaged pants crumpled in the corner and his rifle tucked under his arms. He looked terrified.

"What the?!" Dripik snarled. "You idiot! Where's the female?!"

Grob frowned. "Tch. That wasn't the right one," he said. "That one we had was one of the escapees from forever ago." Grob didn't dare take the blame for leaving her under the care of Drog – it was his fault she was even out there and he didn't want to be killed.

"How could you make that mistake?!" Dripik roared.

"I didn't make the mistake, sir," Grob said quickly. "It was uh. I never saw who brought her in." It was kind of a lie. He'd made many mistakes in his time but had been lucky enough to escape it.

"Then get out there and find her! Before you're chopped up with the rest of 'em!"

Grob was more terrified of being shot by his own kind than anything else. He crawled as fast as he could outside, dragging his weapon with him. Another slig had fallen nearby so he unhitched the stranger's pants and put them on as fast as he could. Now that he felt safe again, he went to go after Drog and the others himself.


	18. Chapter 18

Casey had long since abandoned the ship. She and the others were boarding the speedboat.

Vula, tired as she was, frowned at Casey.

"Hey… I wanted to say I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I haven't really been nice to you lately a-"

"Oh please," said Casey. "It's fine. Let's get out of here."

They very slowly paddled around the ship. They managed to stay out of sight of the sligs, who were peering over the edge, rifles aimed for the water.

"I guess Molluck wanted to save money," Drog hissed. "Building such a pathetic, primitive ship."

Grob was getting irritated. In fact, his irritation was putting thoughts in his head. Thoughts he didn't want to be thinking. He headed up to the helm and noticed that it was empty.

He prepared to turn the ship back around when he spotted the land ahead.

"Ugh, this is stupid," he huffed, slamming his head into the helm.

--

The Vykkers were on full alert. Interns were frantically running this way and that, while in the center of them, Sam was deathly still. Her eyes were closed. It seemed she was already shutting down. The Interns had recently taken what eggs they could from her and when she finally stopped producing them, there was nothing else to be done but wait.

Sam was concentrating. In her mind's eye, she felt her old energy resurfacing – the energy she'd spent the last week developing. It had come at a cost. From the waist down, she was almost completely paralyzed. But by listening to her surroundings she'd discovered where the female Mudokon was.

She listened, observing the goings-on. The ocean spanned for miles at the southeastern point of Mudos. As she moved closer, she saw the small ship, sligs here and there on the deck, and even closer, a tiny boat with a handful of Mudokons. Her heart leapt. She'd found them at last.

She'd never tried possessing a ship before, but she suspected if she could at least possess the one at the helm– she might be able to help them. It would take much of her energy – possessing someone so far away. But Sam was not to be taken lightly.

She concentrated on passing her soul into the slig commanding the helm. It took several minutes, but suddenly the slig was hers. Her surroundings changed dramatically. She clenched her much smaller fingers and increased the speed of the ship, aiming it towards the rocky shores near the smoother coast.

She heard General Dripik's voice and saw his face on a screen in the room.

"WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOIN'?!"

Grob glowered at the screen. "Doin' what I shoulda done a long time ago!" she made him say, and using the butt of Grob's rifle, shattered the screen and began blowing apart the controls of the ship. Once she heard the sligs coming towards her, she busted a window and leaped out into the water to get rid of him. It was the first and last time she ever possessed anyone.

"Wha-!?" Varg shouted as the ship exploded with gunfire. Up in the cabin, windows were shattered, and a slig plummeted into the water with a splash.

He managed to resurface for a moment.

"HELP!" he choked, swimming frantically as he was sucked under.

Drog recognized Grob and slipped his pants off, diving in after him to unhitch the other slig's pants before they drowned him. Once that was done, he dragged the other ship to the speedboat.

"You gotta get the hell outta here!" Grob panted. "I don't wanna die anymore n' you! That ship's gonna blow!"

He wasn't saying it for their benefit. In fact, he had dim memories of what had just occurred. But he wasn't surprised. He had an idea of what had happened and didn't want to be around for the grisly end. He was just lucky to be alive.

Varg started the engine and the boat rocketed away from the malfunctioning ship. Behind them, said ship heaved and grunted.

"FIRE, YOU IDIOTS!" Dripik roared. "The rest of you, get that life-raft ready! I'm not dying on this ship!"

Dripik might've been able to use the raft to chase after the others, but it wasn't near fast enough. The two sligs that escorted him headed in the opposite direction.

The six of them headed for shore. The clouds overhead had cleared somewhat and when they landed, everyone came outside cheering and clapping. Alice helped each of them off the boat and towards the crowd.

Drog and Grob eyed one another, but it was Drog that held the weapon this time, so Grob could do nothing but obey as he was helped onto the dock. Drog followed behind him, for the first time in a superior position to his older counterpart.

Varg escorted Casey to the coastal street, where they grinned at one another and at the rest of the crowd. Suzy limped very slowly out to Drog, where she pressed her body against his legs and whimpered, wriggling and tail wagging madly.

Vula and Tom walked in the rear, more or less glad to be done with it all.

"My oh my," said Alice. "Casey, I ought to strangle you. But seeing as you're going to be a queen…I'd better not!"

Casey folded her arms over her chest. "Hey. I NEVER said I was going out there." She glanced over at Varg, who returned the glance.

"Fine, then," said Varg. "WILL you come with us and be our queen?" He dropped to his knees for a moment. The other Mudokons fell in step and bowed alongside him.

Casey cackled. "Of course!" But then she frowned, looking at the faces she'd known as long as she could remember. There was Alice, her foster mother; the butcher, the old fisherman, the old ladies that she'd given milk to in exchange for their sweets; the hunters and mountaineers and sailors and their wives and children and pets. "Will I ever see you guys again?"

Alice smiled sadly. "Of course my dear. You can come visit any time you like." She placed two of her multiple arms atop Casey's paw.

"Until you're too fat to get ou-- hey!" Drog grunted as Varg elbowed him roughtly in the side.

Birds began to gather around them. Far away, Sam concentrated one last time. Now that everything had settled, she was ready to do her last great work. The birds encircled one another in the manner of a portal. And echoing from them, a voice that Tom and Varg had not heard in years.

"My children," it said. "I've come to give you all one last message before I pass. I am greatly saddened that I was not able to teach you all that I know, Casey. I have faith that you will be a great queen someday." The voice seemed to change slightly. "Vula. You have sacrificed much but it was not in vain. Please, remain by Casey's side and help her in the years to come."

In the silence that followed, Varg and Tom had both dropped to their knees in a desperate attempt to keep themselves emotionally stable at the sound of their mother.

"I apologize for possessing you as I did, Slig," she said to Grob. Grob grunted. "I did what needed to be done. I left you alive as a second chance. And it is up to you what you wish to do with that life. And you," she added to Drog. "You have my deepest gratitude for helping to save us all. As do the rest of you."

Drog and Grob eyed one another. Grob jerked his eyes away and said nothing, but Drog blinked, reaching down to pet Suzy.

"And now I leave you. My children are safe and my work is done." The voice faded away, and as it did the circle of birds filled with light before bursting and creating a portal.

Far away, Sam slumped completely, and the monitor attached to her heart flatlined.

Varg blinked, staring at it.

"I guess we go in," he said slowly. "Thank you for your hospitality." He gestured for Vula and the others to jump in, which they did. When Drog and Grob did not go, he looked at them expectantly.

"Nah," said Drog. "I think I'm gonna hang here for awhile, if that's cool with you. Make sure no one comes back here. This place is kinda nice." Suzy didn't go with them either; she hobbled over to Grob and started sniffing him, much to Grob's dismay.

"You sure?" Varg asked.

"Yeah. Besides, someone's gotta keep this guy in line," Drog sneered playfully as he gestured to Grob, who looked most unhappy with Suzy clambering all over him.

"Thanks, Slig. See you around then." Varg turned, and with one last look over the sea, leapt into the portal. The light between the birds faded and they flew away as though someone had frightened them. All had fallen silent before the sea.

The portal opened deep in the Monsaic Lines. Big Face was well aware of their return. The Mudokons were gathered, both rescued Mudokons and the natives. This time, when the Mudokons emerged from it, their greeting was anything but violent. In fact, upon seeing Casey, all of the Mudokons dropped to their knees.

Big Face alone stood before them.

"So," he said. "You are the Queen? Very well. Let us begin. First we'll start with a fertility test!"

Casey tilted her head. "What's a fertility test?" she whispered to Vula. Vula began snickering to herself.

--

It was very warm outside over the sea. General Dripik was standing in the life raft, barking out orders to the sligs, who were paddling for their lives.

"Can't you ROW ANY FASTER?!" he snarled. "I'm going to start PEELING out here!"

The sligs grunted, heaving with effort.

"I'll skin you slimy slurgs alive, or my name ain't G....uh.."

Fred turned to glare at him. "Ah, shaddup!"

--

From outside Big Face's hut, Vula was giggling to herself as she overheard Casey's complaints from within.

"Ya know," she said to Tom. "I'm kinda glad I'm not queen."

Tom laughed. "Yeah. What's really funny is that Varg can't wait for Casey to become queen!"

"Why's tha—" Vula stopped, and shook her head. "Never really understood all that. Oh well. Guess it's a male thing."

Big Face emerged from the hut moments later. He was rubbing his hands together delightedly.

"Our queen is fertile!" He announced. "She'll begin ovulating in a few weeks."

The crowd of Mudokons cheered. Soon, they would be able to repopulate their race, and hopefully, things would go well again. Vula glanced somewhere off to the south. Drog had paid off his debt to her, even though both of them had forgotten about it. It would be strange, but she was confident she'd visit him again soon.

Suddenly, Casey came storming out of the hut. "YOU SIR," she screamed, pointing at Big Face, "Are a pervert! Are there any lawyers in this village?"

Everyone laughed. Well, except Casey.


	19. Epilogue

The tribe of native Mudokons was busy at work. The hero Abe had returned from an expedition involving a Gabbit a week before, and was taking a nice, long rest. The rest of the tribe was divided among building a rehab for those who had been brew-addicts, building a statue for their late queen, and helping Casey adjust to being in labor.

For the most part, she was moody and most everyone was afraid of her – except Vula. She and Vula had become inseparable. Vula had become her eyes and ears for the world outside. She, Tom, and Varg often went long distances outside the tribe to negotiate treaties between other species and scout the terrain.

Their most important treaty involved the Industrials. They understood that the world was changing, and a pact had been made under rather forced conditions. The remaining Industrial facilities employing Mudokons were required to pay them, and for every accident they had to pay a special stipend. Soon it became rather troublesome to employ them, and so the amount employed was next to none. They were to be given rights and slowly, but surely, they were given them.

The Industrials were watched like hawks. Gradually, they moved on to employing other species and the Mudokon percentage became very small.

Drog and Grob eventually befriended one another and opened up a business partnership in Jarlonia. It was focused on slog breeding and Suzy had become their first slog queen as well as their mascot. The slogs she produced were then hand-raised by the locals and gradually, their sadism and violence became minimal – at least, in Suzy's strain. They sold the sloggies to tourists. Eventually the Valet slig himself settled in Jarlonia and opened up his own entertainment joint, using many of Suzy's sloggies as part of his act.

The city had opened up and a path was eventually constructed from the mountains. Soon the city had fishing as a major industry and sold to various locations. Tales of Gabbits became more frequent, but were rarely ever seen.

General Dripik was hardly heard from again. The world became whole again, and the dying race of Mudokons managed to cling to life once more, hope driving them on and on by a legacy of heroes, both large and small.

The End.

:D 3

A/N: And that's a wrap! This is the first fanfic I've EVER completely finished and I'm so happy. I put a lot of work into this, so if you made it this far and you aren't half-asleep in a puddle of your own drool or readying a magnum, please review this story. You don't have to say anything positive if you don't want to - I just want to know that people are reading this. Please tell me what you thought of it - no matter what it was or how I could improve. And uh, tell your friends. ;) Anyway, thank you so much if you did read it, you guys rock.


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